Just One Day of Your Life - Full Story

[sarat]

I have read this story years ago, it completely disappeared until I found it again today as a txt file on some dodgy server. I think it's incredibly sweet (and hot at traits), thought I'd share it with you guys. Enjoy

NOTE: I don't know who the author is, it's only referenced as "Brian". If you do, please let me know, I'd love to give due credit. Hope he doesn't mind it being posted on here.
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Just One Day of Your Life
by Brian

Chapter One:
I had been moved out of my mother’s house for two weeks now, and
I still couldn’t believe it. I had made it! I was Dale Simmons, college man! No more high school, no more curfew, no more cleaning my room or Saturday detentions...it was like I was living in a dream world.
I looked out my apartment window over to campus. It was so big, so
exciting. I began to fantasize about all the football games I would attend, all
the parties I would throw, all the lovely women I would date. God, the next
four years would be ecstasy.
True, college life wouldn’t be all fun and games. Unlike a lot of
students, I wanted to graduate with honors. I had taken out a stiff student
loan and could not afford to flunk out or barely graduate. I had dreams of
becoming a lawyer, and I sure as hell wouldn’t get into law school with a 2.3
GPA.
“Hey Dale, say cheese!” I turned around to see the one major
problem I had with college life. When I first was accepted to this school, I
had decided I would rather not live in the crowded dorms and had answered
an ad in the ‘roommates wanted’ section of the paper. The apartment was
great: two bedrooms and within walking distance of campus. I should have
checked out the roommate more carefully, though.
His name was John, and well, he was weird. A tall guy with
scraggly hair and an unkempt beard, he certainly wasn’t a traditional guy. He
was a bassist for an obscure local band and I was constantly subject to a loud
stream of ‘power chords.’ He would laugh insanely at times for no apparent
reason. To make things worse, he was a photo-journalism major and was
constantly snapping pictures of things around the apartment, including me.
Not exactly my dream room mate (that would be Elle MacPhereson), but he
was likeable in his own way and I guessed I could tolerate him for a year or
so.
‘Click.’ John snapped a picture of me. I really wasn’t in the mood
for another photo shoot, so I went over to visit my sister, Jenni.
When I arrived at Jenni’s dorm, I found her doing what she did most
of the time: chatting on the internet. It was a good thing the college offered
free internet service, I’d hate to see what her monthly bill would have been
otherwise.
Now I don’t want to give the impression that Jenni was some kind of
fat, ugly computer geek who couldn’t make friends otherwise. Far from it.
Jenni was a college sophomore, sophisticated, funny, and in my opinion,
pretty. She was slender, with long black hair, fair skin, and delicate features.
If the world was a fair place, she would have been constantly bombarded by
guys who wanted to ask her out. Unfortunately, the world is not a fair place.
When Jenni was eleven-years-old, she was in a very bad car accident.
She survived, thank God, with no lasting health problems. Unfortunately,
her face was very badly burned in the wreck. Now the entire left side of her
face was a mass of scar tissue.
From that moment on, Jenni went from being a pretty young lady to
an introverted, scared young woman. She had never gone to prom, never
gone on a date, and never, to my knowledge, kissed a boy. It certainly
wasn’t her fault; she tried to get dates. It was just that there were few men
who were willing to look past the scar tissue to see the wonderful girl inside.
Jenni still had a lovely body and, in my opinion, a great personality, but what
guy would notice that now?
To make matters worse, there was my mother. Back in her day,
Mom had been quite the beauty queen. She was won a lot of contests and
been a runner up to represent our state in the Miss America pageant. From
the moment Jenni was born, mother had began molding Jenni in her own
image. When Jenni was six-months-old she took first prize in a beautiful
baby contest. She kept right on winning child beauty contests until the
accident. That ended her career as a beauty queen. The worst of it was, once
Mom realized that the scars were permanent, she cruelly lost all interest in
Jenni. It was like she only cared about her when she was pretty and had no
interest in a non-perfect daughter. As for me, Mom was never interested in
my rough-and-tumble, boyish ways. Jenni and I grew closer, but we both grew apart from Mom.
This was why Jenni talked on the computer so much. Through the
magic of the internet, Jenni was not the poor, scarred girl. She was a pretty,
fun lady who all the guys wanted to get to know. Her personality showed
through, it seemed every time I talked to her she was telling me about some
new guy who had asked her out. It was too bad that this only worked
through the internet; she could obviously never meet any of these guys in
person.
Jenni had once confided in me that she would have done anything,
anything, to meet a special guy. I told her the same tired things: she was
beautiful, she would meet someone, any guy would be lucky to have her...but we both knew how empty comments like that seemed.
“Hey sis,” I called “you wanna grab a cup of coffee or something?”
Jenni seemed embarrassed. “Well, I’m kinda chatting with Steve right now.”
Ah, Steve. While Jenni had dozens of cyber-admirrers, Steve was
apparently something special. She constantly gushed about him, Steve-this,
Steve-that. It made me a little sad. Steve lived on the coast, he’d probably
never come out this way. Even if he offered to, Jenni would probably refuse.
I went off to try to meet some women, leaving Jenni to her romance with Steve. I had no idea at the time how much Steve would end up changing her life...and mine.
Two days later a received a frantic phone call from Jenni, asking me to come over to her dorm right away. When I got there, she seemed both excited and terrified. I asked her what was wrong.
“I just got this letter from Steve,” she replied.
“An actual letter? I though you guys only sent e-mail.”
“Just read it. C’mon!”
I took the letter from her and began to read:

Dearest Jenni,

It was so good to talk to you last night. It seems like my entire day
revolves around my conversations with you. You know we’re always saying
how great it would be to get together? Well, I think I might have found a
way! My cousin is getting married on the west coast, and my flight makes a
stopover in your city! I’ve worked something out with the airline so that I
can stay there for a whole day for no extra charge. What do you say? Can I
come see you, honey?
Steve
P.S. I just got the pictures you sent me. Wow!

I looked back at Jenni. “Pictures?” I asked. “You mean, he knows?
Jenni looked away. “Not exactly.” She handed me a couple of photos. “I had your roommate, John, take these for me.”
I looked at the pictures. They were glamour shots of Jenni. She
looked even lovelier than she did in her days as a beauty queen. The thing
was, all the pictures were shot from the right. From what I could see, it was
impossible to tell she was anything but a beautiful woman.
I looked at my sister. Before I could say anything, she was
interrupted. “Dale, I know what you’re thinking. But listen, guys don’t
want to fly across the country to see a human freak show. They want to see a girl who looks like the one in this picture.”
“Jenni, he’s coming across the country to see you. What you look like shouldn’t matter.”
“But it does matter, Dale. If I sent him a real picture I bet you his
flight would be mysteriously rerouted the moment he learned the truth.”
“So...” how could I put this without sounding cruel? “you’re just
going to let him find out when he gets here?”
“I can’t do that either. He says he’s in love with me, but I don’t
know how serious he is. If he was coming three months from now I would
know if that love would be enough to love me as is. I just can’t tell right
now. If he sees me now, that’ll be the end of it.”
“Then you’ll have to tell him not to come. Make up an excuse.”
Jenni sighed. “That’s not an option either. Everyday I tell him that
meeting him would be the thrill of a lifetime. Now, no matter what I tell him,
it will sound like I don’t really love him.”
Don’t really love him? She loved him? “Jenni, I can’t think of any
other options. Either tell him the truth and see if he’s man enough to love
you for real, or postpone until you are sure of it.”
Jenni looked nervous. “Actually, Dale, I thought of another way that
just might work out.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“Have you ever read ‘Cyrano de Bergerac?’”
“Uh, I saw the movie.”
“Well Cyrano is a wonderful, loving man. He’s in love with
Roxanne, but doesn’t dare tell her, since he’s so ugly. Instead, he writes her
poetry, and has a good-looking guy, Christian, pass it off as his own. In the
end, Roxanne realizes that she is in love with the poet, not the pretty face.”
“Yeah, but don’t both guys end up getting killed at the end?”
Jenni ignored that. “I was thinking, what if I got someone to go on
the date in my place? Someone pretty, that Steve would be proud to be seen
with. That way, he’ll know I want to see him and I’ll have a few more months to build him up for this.” Jenni pointed to her scars.
“I dunno. Seems pretty self-defeating to have another girl go in your
place. Who did you have in mind?”
Jenni looked my right in the eyes. “You, Dale.”
“No, seriously.”
“I am serious. No, listen. If I hadn’t sent Steve those pictures then I
could have any girl play me. But now, he’s expecting someone who could pass as my twin sister.”
“Jenni, this is ludicrous. I’m not listening.”
“Dale, please. Give me five minutes to explain.”
I looked at my watch. “The clock is ticking.”
“OK. Now you and I look a lot alike. You are slim, you have pale
skin, and you’d have nice longish hair if you’d ever comb out those hippie
locks of yours. I think that if I dress you in some of my clothes, give you a
make over, add a lot of padding, and give you lessons in femininity, you
could pass for me for a day. I’ll tell Steve that I’d love to see him, but I
never feel comfortable kissing on the first date. That way you don’t have to
worry about that aspect. Steve flies home and in a few months I tell him the
truth about me and say that you were just a friend of mine. We all live
happily ever after and neither of us bring it up again.”
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Then my answer is no. Dress like a woman? Date a guy? Have you
lost your frigging mind?”
I think I could have withstood almost anything from Jenni: threats,
appeals to logic, emotion, family, or whatever. But when she started sobbing, my heart broke.
“Please Dale,” she said between tears. “Just one day of your life.
One lousy, stinking day! You’ve been on dates. I haven’t. You’ve been
kissed, I never have. You know what it’s like to be special and I never will.
I’m not exaggerating here, Steve might be my one chance at happiness. My
one chance! I’m begging you Dale!”
I was struck dumb, I’d never seen her this upset. Steve was obviously very special.
Jenni wiped away her tears. “Look Dale, I don’t expect you to agree
to this right now. Tomorrow, why don’t I try dressing you up like me in
private? If you don’t think it will work, well, then I guess I’ll just have to
face the music.”
I numbly nodded.


Chapter Two:
The next day I sullenly sat on my couch. Jenni would be over soon
to ‘feminize me.’ I didn’t like the sound of that. John was off playing one of
his infrequent gigs so Jenni and I would have the apartment to ourselves.
It saddened me how much Jenni was deluding herself. I had looked
in the mirror the previous night and came to the conclusion that my passing as
a girl was never going to happen. True, I did bear a striking resemblance to
my sister, but so what? I was a guy, plain and simple. I hadn’t been
mistaken for a girl since I was two years old. The only unmasculine thing I
could see about myself was a general lack of facial and body hair. Just a
couple of sad strands on my chin and some fuzz on my legs. But what of it?
Lots of guys don’t have facial hair. It would take more than that to make me
into Jenni.
Jenni knocked at the door and I let her in. She was carrying a huge
makeup case and a couple of garment bags. I helped her carry them in.
“Well Dale, are you ready? Jeez, you look like you’re going to you
own execution.”
“That would be a slightly more welcome experience,” I grunted.
Jenni looked at me sternly. “Dale, this can be as miserable an
experience as you want to make it, but listen to me. This is nothing more
than a costume. You are doing your sister a favor, nothing more. I didn’t
tell anyone, and I assume you didn’t. Now you can either make this the
worst night of your life, or you can think what a great person you are for
helping out your sis.”
I grunted neutrally. Jenni directed me to go take a shower and shave
my legs and armpits.
“Shave my legs? No way!”
“C’mon Dale, who’s going to notice? It’s getting colder already, it’s
not like you’ll be wearing shorts soon.”
I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I stepped under the
cascading shower and washed. When I could no longer put off the
inevitable, I took out my seldom used razor and began to run it along my
legs. Several nicks later I was done. My legs felt smoother, but not by a
whole lot. Jenni was right. I had so little hair there in the first place no one
would look twice.
The pits were a little more difficult. I had to have Jenni toss me some
scissors to trim most of the hair. I took the rest off with the razor, ruining the
blade in the process. The denuded armpits were more noticeable. I would
have no remember not to wear a tank top until the hair grew back.
I stepped out of the shower. “OK, Dr. Frankenstein, what now?” I
called out.
“Put these on,” called Jenni as she tossed something through a crack
in the bathroom door. I picked it up. It appeared to be the bottom of a bikini,
only it was made of sturdy rubber.
“Jenni, these are too small! Women don’t wear things like this!”
“Yes,” she replied through the door, “but men who want to look like
women do. You have extra parts that we can’t have ‘popping up,’ while you’re dressed like me.”
The thing was miserably tight. I felt my testicles migrate up into their
recesses and my penis turn inside out. Jenni was right though, all that was
visible of my manhood was a small bump.
Jenni then tossed a pair of cotton panties through the door. “Jenni,
do I have to wear panties? Who’s going to know?”
“Dale, does it really matter at this point?”
I supposed not. I slipped them on. Jenni tossed me something else.
I laughed.
“Now Jenni, don’t you think you’re taking this woman thing a little
too far? Maxipads? What could I possibly need those for?”
“Not to use them, Dale. They’re for padding. Slip ‘em in your panties. One down each hip vertically, and two around your butt, horizontally. That should give you a more girlish rear end and hips.”
“Now how could you possibly know that?” I asked.
“I read it on the internet.”
“Of course.”
Jenni then passed me a bra. Only it wasn’t really a bra. Each cup
contained a fluid-filled sack. “They’re for women who’ve had mastectomies,” Jenni explained. “It’s supposed to simulate a woman’s breasts. I got it from a friend who works at the hospital.”
I put it on, untangled it, took it off, and finally put in on correctly. It
was a little like those body holsters some policeman wear. I looked down at
my body. I looked as silly as I felt. Well, maybe I had a new Halloween
costume, but I didn’t see how this silly padding job would change anything.
The last thing Jenni handed me was a girdle. It was an uncomfortable
fit and it pulled my sides in painfully close. I started to open my mouth to
complain, but then thought the better of it. It made me look so ridiculous that
I figured wearing it would actually help convince Jenni not to ask me to dress
like this.
“Anything else?” I asked Jenni.
“No, c’mon out.”
“But I’m half naked!”
“Then throw on a robe or something. Nothing that pulls over your head though, I’m doing your makeup next and I don’t want it to get smeared.”
I pulled on a pair of boxers and one of John’s old button-down shirts
I found on the floor. As I was about to leave, I caught a glimpse of myself in
the mirror. All of a sudden, what I was wearing wasn’t so funny anymore.
Now that the padding was covered with clothes, I looked different.
My hips and rear stuck out like a girl’s. My sides curved inward, giving me
an slight. hourglass figure. Worst of all, the mastectomy bra made it look
like I had breasts! Medium-sized, pert little feminine breasts! Every part of
my body that was covered with clothes could have easily belonged to a woman.
Still, I wasn’t that worried. Padding can change some things, but my
face was still mine. I still had that rugged, handsome face I looked at in the
mirror ever morning. So she slapped some paint on it, big deal. No way
could she make me look convincing.
I stepped out into the living room. Jenni had me sit in our big recliner
and tilted me back. She moved my reading lamp over to my side to get a better look at my face. Then she began.
First, she combed and brushed out my hair. She berated me about
what the cheap shampoo I used was doing to my hair until I agreed to let her
buy me some she approved of. I refused her request to get a permanent or
anything like that, though I did allow her to trim off some split-ends.
She took out one of those cloth covered elastic things that women call
a ‘scrunchie’ and tied my hair back into a pony-tail. Then she went to work
on my makeup. She smiled.
“This isn’t going to be so hard,” she said. “Your jaw isn’t too prominent, and you don’t really have a beard. I’ll give you a makeover tonight, but you’ll have to learn how to do this on your own.”
“And people said I’d never learn anything in college.”
“That’s the spirit, keep up your sense of humor.”
Jenni went to work. She slathered my face with a variety of
eyeliners, mascara, lipstick, rouge, and blush. Several times she would wipe
my face clean and start all over again. I began to see why women spend such
a long time in the bathroom. I even caught her plucking my eyebrows until I
realized what she was doing and made her stop. Finally she decided I was
presentable. I tried to get a glimpse of myself in her makeup mirror, but she
refused, saying she only wanted me to see the finished product when I decided if I could pass for her.
“Jenni,” I asked, “do you really think this makeup is going to do any
good?”
“Absolutely,” she tittered. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even believe you’re a man.”
That made me mad. “I’m sorry Jenni, but there are just some things
that makeup cannot change!”
Jenni looked surprisingly hurt by the comment. Then I remembered.
For quite some time Jenni had tried to cover up her scars with makeup. She
had eventually realized how fruitless this was and abandoned her attempts. I
felt bad about accidentally striking a nerve, so I didn’t say anything else.
Jenni handed me some nylon stocking which I slid on with difficulty.
She was rummaging through her garment bag. “Ah, here it is. I think it will
be perfect for you. Very conservative and goes well with your complexion.”
It was a plain black dress. The sleeves were full to the wrist and it
looked like the bottom seam would reach the floor. The neckline, while lower than a man’s garment, wasn’t too deep. I regarded it sourerly.
“What’s the matter, Dale? What did you want, a prom dress?”
“Just remember why I’m even doing this, Jenni.” Jenni took the hint
and shut up, though I was secretly relieved that the dress was so conservative. I had half expected her to dress me up like a Las Vegas showgirl.
Jenni helped me into the dress and zipped me up in back. She then
clipped two faux-pearl earrings on my ears and a pearl necklace around my
neck.
Then she did my nails. They were too short to paint, so she applied
some of those plastic, press-on kind. She told me I would have to stop
clipping my own until Steve got here so that she could paint them then. Little
did she know there that this was the last time I would dress like this.
Last came the shoes. She said she had a hard time finding anything in
my size, but hand managed to get a nice look pair of flats that weren’t too
small.
After she adjusted my makeup one more time, she led me to the
mirror. I was sad to see her deluding herself like this, thinking that I could
ever make a convincing girl. In a few moments I would have to bring her
down to earth. Still, I might as well have a look at the damage.
I expected to see a reflection of some ridiculous guy dressed like a
girl, kinda like Benny Hill in drag. I guess that’s why I let out an involuntary
gasp when I saw the mirror.
Jenni was looking back at me from the glass! My God, I looked
exactly like her! Glossy, well combed hair, a delicately painted face. Small
hands with painted nails. A cute little dress. A curvy figure with a woman’s
chest. The only major difference was that I had no scars. I looked like the
woman Jenni would have been, the woman she should have been. The woman she almost was.
This was a catastrophe! All night I had assumed that I would look so
funny in a dress that Jenni would see her error and give up the plan. Now
what could I do?
“So what do you think?” asked Jenni, excitedly.
“I guess I look OK.” Much as I wanted to say I looked horrible, I
couldn’t. The resemblance to Jenni was too striking. I couldn’t insult my
looks without insulting hers.
“You look great, Dale!”
“I do not. This is never going to work, Jenni.”
Jenni was about to protest when I heard something that made all my
previous fears seem like nothing. There was a key turning in my lock! It had
to be John, he was home from his gig at least three hours early!
I panicked. John barely knew me. What if he thought I was gay, or
that I liked dressing like this for fun? What if he got his kicks beating the
crap out of guys who wore dresses? I wasn’t in the mood for a fist-fight,
especially dressed like this. From the scared look on Jenni’s face, she had
come to the same conclusion.
John staggered in, reeking of rum and smoking what I hoped was a
hand-rolled cigarette. “God damn sons of bitches shut down the frigging
club. f---in’ board of health, not like anyone’s never found a rat’s head in
their beer before!” John turned in our direction. His eyes narrowed in rage.
“What in the hell is going on here?” he bellowed.
“John, listen, I can explain...” I began.
“Explain, yeah, someone had better freaking explain!” John was literally quaking with anger. He was even madder than I had feared.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Jenni said meekly.
“It better not be!” John continued to rant. “I mean all I ask is for you
to tape the Giant’s game while I’m out, and I can see the VCR isn’t even on!”
It took Jenni and I a couple of seconds to realize that John wasn’t
looking at me, but at the television.
“Oh,” I stammered. “The game was rained out. They’re playing tomorrow.”
“Oh, OK,” said John, chucking his pungent smoking material into the
waste basket; his anger almost instantly dissolving. He looked at me. “So
what’s with the whacky get-up?”
“Well, Jenni met this guy on the internet...”
John had already wandered into the kitchen. “No kidding,” he said,
not paying attention. “Hey, are these your Sugar-krispies? Can I have some?”
When John had finally stumbled into bed, Jenni looked at me and
smiled. “There, you see, John saw you and didn’t think there was anything
strange going on.”
“Jenni, if a heard of elephants in tutus paraded through here, John
wouldn’t think anything strange was going on. I’m sorry, but this costume
doesn’t convince me.”
“Well it convinces me. Maybe both of us are seeing what we want to
see. We need someone else to decide.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically. “Why don’t we invite some sorority
chicks to come in here and judge?”
“Not like that. Listen, I know this little bar in a town about twenty
miles from here. Why don’t we go there and have a drink. If anyone realizes
that you are not a girl, then I’ll never ask you to do this again.”
“Great. And I’ll become the laughing stock on campus. This guy who likes to dress like a woman.”
“Dale, do you know anyone on this campus besides me and John?”
“Well, no.” What with all the chaos of moving, I had only managed
to make a couple of casual acquaintances.
“There you go,” replied Jenni. “No one knows you, and even if
someone realized you weren’t a guy, which I doubt, they’d never recognize
you as Dale Simmons. We’ll be miles from campus anyway.”
“Sorry Jenni. This is my social life on the line, not yours. No way.”
Jenni looked sad. “Dale, I could sit here all night and tell you what
Steve means to me. I could beg you, or threaten you, or cry, but I’m not.
I’m just going to say one thing: please.”
I looked at Jenni, my nineteen-year-old sister who had never been loved by anyone but me. I thought of how happy a boyfriend would make her. Two words kept running through my mind. One was ‘Jenni.’ The other was ‘please.’
A few minutes later I had put my wallet in a purse Jenni had brought,
and we were off. Jenni was driving and kept insisting that I sit up straight.
For some reason I found it more comfortable to ride slouched down near the
floorboards where no one could see me. Finally, we arrived at the small bar.
It was a secluded little place, I’d have to remember it for the next time I
wanted to take a girl somewhere quiet.
“OK,” I said. “Here’s the plan. We go in, drink something, and get
the hell out. We should be in and out in under five minutes.”
“Dale, we’re going out for a drink, not pulling a bank job. You know, it’s possible for you to have a good time tonight.”
“Yes, but since I’m not at home watching football, I really don’t see
how that will be possible.”
Jenni smiled, shook her head, and we walked inside.
The place was crowded, most tables were occupied. Several couples
danced to the pop music that poured out of the jukebox. I was frightened to
see several people wearing shirts with my college’s name on them.
We sat down in the back and ordered sodas, since we were underage. I guess I was anxious to leave, I had chugged mine and was asking to go before Jenni had even taken a sip or hers.
I froze in horror when a big frat guy from my school started coming
our way. I prayed that he only wanted to use the men’s room, but he made a
beeline for our table. I had been spotted! He recognized me! I was a dead
man. I hoped that he didn’t have any violence on his mind. Maybe he would
just be content with humiliating me and wouldn’t want to fight or to spread
my dress habits all over campus.
“Hi!” he said when he reached us. “I’m Chris, a Kappa Alpha man!” Big deal, I thought. “So,” he said, looking at me, “would you care to dance?”
I was very nearly sick. He didn’t want to hit me, he wanted to hit on
me! To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. And in front of
Jenni! Now I could never tell her the costume wouldn’t work.
I managed to stammer out a negative answer. He turned to Jenni.
“Well then, how about y...” he then saw Jenni’s face, full on. “Uh, I gotta
go,” he stammered and practically ran off.
“What an asshole,” I said to Jenni. Then I saw the horribly hurt look
on her face. I was sure pissed, that guy practically told her he wouldn’t
dance with her because of her scars. It wouldn’t have killed him to dance one
number with her and would have made Jenni’s night. I wanted to ask him to
step outside, but I really wasn’t dressed for heroics.
“Jenni, don’t let that jerk get you down. He’s not worth it.”
Jenni smiled a fake smile. “Don’t worry. It’ s not like that’s never
happened to me before. Let’s just get out of here.”
All the way home I kept trying to think of ways to cheer her up.
There was only one thing I knew that would accomplish that.
We pulled into my driveway. “Night, Dale. See you round,” she said flatly.
“Jenni, listen.” Her eyes brightened, almost imperceptively. “Would
it mean a lot to you if I went on this...” I couldn’t say date, not with a man.
“If I met Steve in your place?”
“Dale,” she replied with no exaggeration, “it would mean the world to
me.”
“All right. No kissing, nothing stupid, but I’ll do it. For you.”
Jenni gave me a huge hug. “I’ll never forget this, little brother. I’ll
make this up to you for the rest of my life. And I want you to know that
Steve and I will always welcome you in our home.”
I thought she was rushing things a bit, but it was good to see her so
happy. I told her good night and went inside.
I took of the silly women’s clothes, washed off my makeup, and climbed into bed. ‘My God,’ I thought. ‘What have I agreed to?’


Chapter Three:
We had exactly one week until Steve arrived and Jenni seemed bound
and determined to replace eighteen years of male programming in seven days.
It was rough. My only consolation was that once Steve was gone this whole
business would be over, and hopefully Jenni would be a lot happier for my
efforts.
The first day of my ‘training’ was spent reading and rereading letters
and e-mail that Jenni and Steve had exchanged. I was forced to listen to
pointless lectures about Steve: his family, he likes and dislikes, his school,
etc. It was all hideously dull for me, but Jenni wanted me to be prepared.
She didn’t want Steve to bring up some past conversation of theirs and for
me to not know what he was talking about.
It also kind of irked me when I found out how much she had shared
with Steve, how she had told him many private, intimate thoughts that she
had not even shared with me. I knew it was natural for a girl her age to open
up to a boyfriend more than a family member, but it was all new to me. Most
guys come to grips with their sisters’ dates during middle school, not college.
Steve’s letters disturbed me a little, as well. He was always going on
and on about how he ‘desired’ Jenni, how he ‘longed for her,’ and how he
‘wanted to hold her in his arms.’ He sounded pretty turned on to me. Jenni
assured me they had a relationship based on much more than physical
encounters, but I wasn’t so sure. Steve was flying half way across the
country to see Jenni. I wasn’t sure if he would be content with ‘no kissing.’
I would have to watch myself constantly.
Jenni was a tough teacher. I just figured that she’d show me how to
put on lipstick and eyeliner and that would be enough. Not so. Jenni
claimed I looked the part, but she wanted to make sure that I acted the part.
First came the posturing and walking lessons. Back and forth across
the my living room, wearing a dress and wobbly high heels, every day for
what seemed like hours. John had mysteriously vanished several nights ago.
I had no idea where he was, but I figured he would be back by the time
classes started. At any rate, we had the privacy we needed for Jenni to teach
me how to walk again.
“No Dale, stop slouching! Chest out, head high! I swear, you walk
like a caveman! One hip forward at a time, atta boy, or should I say girl?
Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of those heels. It took me a while, too.”
Then the makeup and hair lessons started. While Jenni was going to
help prepare me for the date, she wanted to make sure I could adjust my hair
and makeup on my own. While my nails wouldn’t be long enough in time,
she kept them manicured and clipped nicer than they had ever been under my
care. Soon I understood the basics of making myself up.
My voice presented a problem. While I didn’t exactly talk like James
Earl Jones, I didn’t have a falsetto voice, either. Jenni worked and worked
with me. She told me to talk like I was yawning and whispering at the same
time. While I thought I sounded silly, at least I could manage a passable
woman’s voice for a while.
What I had the most trouble with were her lesson on deportment. It
was so easy to forget that now I couldn’t pick my teeth, sit with my legs
spread, or go into the men’s room. She reminded me over and over again not
to be aggressive, to let the guy make all the decisions, to be submissive. It
galled me. I hated this. At least now I had a slightly better understanding of
what women have to put up with. I made a vow that next time I took a girl
out on a date, I would be damn sure to compliment her on her clothes, dress,
hair, and anything else she might have worked hard on for me.
Finally, it was the night before Steve was scheduled to arrive. Jenni
nervously dressed me in outfit after outfit, trying to find one that she thought
that Steve would like. She was so nervous, you would have thought it was
her going on the date instead of me. In a way it was her, I certainly wasn’t
going for my own personal enjoyment.
As she laid out my outfit, she spoke to me. “Dale, you know how I
told Steve I, well you, wouldn’t kiss him, right?”
“Right. And I hope you said it like you meant it.”
“Well, Dale, I’ve been thinking. Steve is going to be flying hundreds
of miles to see me. I’ve been telling him for months how much I like him,
and I worry that he’s going to think that I don’t if I don’t give him a couple of
kisses.”
“No!”
“Just one little kiss goodbye. Just touch his lips with yours, no
tongue. How hard could that be?”
“We had a deal Jenni. Not in a million years.”
“Well, could you at least hold his hand?”
I was getting pissed. “Why don’t I just stay home tomorrow? That’s
what I want to do.”
“Dale, you’re not being fair.”
“No, you’re not being fair,” I snapped back. “Do you know how
many guys would do something like this for their sisters? None! I don’t
even know why I’m doing it, but I said I would and I am. But don’t push
me or you’ll have to do this on your own.”
Jenni dressed me in silence. First I slipped on some nylons. When I
had first tried to do this I had torn them in three places. Now, thanks to
Jenni’s training, I could easily slide on nylons and hose, even while wearing
the fake nails. Next, I stepped into a little black skirt that she had picked out.
The weather was unseasonably warm, therefore, in my opinion, the skirt was
unreasonably short. It only came down to my knees! It was pleated, and
buttoned on the side. This took a while to adjust to, I was used to having a
zipper in the front.
Next, I put on a blouse. It was poofy and white and dipped down too
far in the front. It was tight and you could see the mounds of my ‘breasts’
quite clearly. Finally, there came a black silk vest. It was sleeveless and left
my arms bare to the shoulders. It buttoned in the front, the ‘wrong’ way
(buttons on the left).
I stepped into some little black pumps that I still felt unsteady on.
Some silvery jewelry on my wrist, neck and ears and a black leather handbag
completed the picture.
“So,” I asked grimly “how do I look?”
“See for yourself,” replied Jenni, with a sad smile.
I looked in the mirror she indicated. Thanks to the week of training
and makeup practice, I looked even more like Jenni than before. I could have
been her identical twin. God, why couldn’t I have been born extremely tall?
Why couldn’t I have been tough and muscular? Why couldn’t I have been
super hairy? But no, I was skinny and short and there was no denying how
much I looked like my sister.
“Dale,” asked Jenni “what do you think Mom would do if she saw you?”
“I know exactly what she’d do. She’d probably fuss with my
makeup and enter me in the Miss Teen USA pageant.” I laughed at my
attempt at humor. Jenni didn’t. She looked at me with a strangely intense
look on her face.
“Dale, promise me something. I don’t expect you to kiss Steve, I
guess that is too much to ask. But don’t act miserable. He’ll be able to tell.
Please act happy. Act like you’re in love. Act like Steve is the man you’re
going to marry. Dale, that’s how I feel. Please Dale, do this for me. I can’t.
For one day of your life, be pretty and charming and in love. It’s only an act
for you, but not for me. Please.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to do.
The next day I drove Jenni’s car to the airport. “Relax,” I told
myself. “Be happy. Have a good time. This is for Jenni. You are going to
make her happy. Steve will be gone in exactly 23 and a half hours.”
I recognized Steve before he saw me. He looked just like his picture:
brown beard and hair, blue eyes, tall, and I guess you would call him good
looking. I took a deep breath and called out his name.
“Jenni!” he shouted across the terminal. He rushed to me and, before
I could prevent it, gave me a huge hug. I had to restrain myself from
wiggling free. A guy flies all this way to meet a girl, a hug’s not a lot to ask.
I would just keep having to tell myself that Steve thought I was Jenni and
was reacting in a normal way. I would also have to remind myself to react
how Jenni would.
I told Steve how happy I was that he had come, trying to sound
sincere. Steve gave me a small bouquet of roses. I smiled, thinking how
happy Jenni would be when I gave them to her. “Thank you,” I told him.
“No problem,” he said. “So what do you want to do?”
I suggested that we grab something to eat. We drove to a nice little
restaurant near the airport. Fancy, but not too pricey. We sat in a corner
booth and talked. Well, Steve talked. I hated to think anything bad about
Steve this early on, but he sure seemed vain. All the conversation pretty
much revolved around him. This made things a little easier for me, since I
didn’t have to talk about myself too much or worry about making my voice
sound feminine. Still, I was bored. I timed Steve on the clock behind him.
He once talked for 23 minutes without requiring me to say anything.
I finally suggested that we leave and go somewhere else. “I couldn’t
agree more,” said Steve. Before I realized what he was doing, he had
grabbed my hand. It took a lot of willpower for me not to yank it away. He
looked into my eyes. “Why don’t we get away from here and go somewhere dark and quiet, where we can be close.”
Yikes! I knew what that meant. “I couldn’t agree more,” I replied,
trying to sound flighty. “Let’s go see a movie!”
Steve was obviously disappointed, but tough for him. Jenni had said
no kissing and he’d just have to deal with it. But there was something on my
mind. The nagging, unpleasant sensation that I had forgotten to do
something. Something important. As we got into my car, I realized what it
was.
“My God Steve, I forgot to register for classes!” It was true. In all
the hubbub of getting ready for this farce of a date, I had forgotten that it was
also registration week! Today, being Friday, was the last day to sign up. If I
didn’t go in today I wouldn’t be registered at all. Then I couldn’t join a class
until someone else dropped it, which might not be for weeks. It would be
academic suicide, to say the least. I explained the situation to Steve, sweetly
saying that it was due to my excitement of his arrival that I had forgotten to
sign up.
Much to my surprise, Steve seemed rather put out. It would only take
me a half an hour, but he acted like it was the world’s biggest imposition.
Well, he could handle it.
I walked into the registration building, nervous as hell. Could I even
register dressed like this? There was no time to go home and change,
besides, I couldn’t just ask Steve to hang out on campus alone for an hour or
so. Well, I thought, Dale can be a woman’s name. I’ll just sign up as is, and
a few days later I’ll come back and tell them that they accidentally marked me
as ‘female.’ Shouldn’t be a problem.
The chain-smoking registrar put my name down on the class lists
without giving me a second glance. He’d probably had a rough day and
wasn’t thinking about anything other than going home. I felt a moment of
panic when I realized that I would also be having my photo taken for my
student ID as well. Then I remembered that John had told me you could have
an ID replaced for five dollars. I’d just say that I’d lost mine and have a real
picture taken.
I left the building, all signed up for school and ready to go. Steve
greeted me with friendly “So are you finished yet?” Jeez, what did Jenni see
in this guy? He must have been more charming on computer. Or, maybe I
was just judging him harshly. I probably wouldn’t think any man was good
enough for my sister.
We bought tickets at a theater near campus. I had wanted to see
“Revenge of the Kung Fu Robot,” but I figured that that would have been a
most un-Jenni like selection. Instead I insisted on seeing some foreign film
that seemed more in character. Steve didn’t seem to be happy with the
choice, but at least now I wasn’t the only one going to see something I didn’t
care for.
We sat next to each other in the darkened theater. The film was
surprisingly good. It was about a World War I soldier whose wife leaves
him the day before he ships out to the front. I guess I got a little to into it; I
didn’t notice Steve reaching to put his arm around me until he had already
succeeded.
It was a tense situation for me. He had really overstepped himself
now, with his arm draped casually over my shoulder, his hand resting on my
bare forearm. But what could I do? If I were to shrug him off, then he’d
think I, or really Jenni, didn’t like him. It didn’t make much sense for me to
go to all this trouble to help Jenni, only to ruin her chances with Steve.
Besides, it was just a friendly half-embrace. I had done that to any number
of my dates. That was a disgusting thought: how many of my dates had wished I wouldn’t touch them?
I tried to get back into the plot of the movie while ignoring the large
male forearm wrapped around me. It was not easy for me to relax knowing
that its owner was probably now thinking about how he could get me in bed.
I just kept telling myself to persevere, that this would all be over before I
knew it.
Then it happened. During the scene where the wounded hero kisses a
nurse in a field hospital, I saw Steve’s head coming at me. I jumped up just
before his lips met mine.
“Where are you going?” asked Steve, shocked.
“To the bath...to the ladies’ room,” I mumbled and was off like a shot.
Remembering to use the correct restroom, I rushed into the women’s
bathroom. It was the only place I could be rid of him and think. I was
surprised at how clean it was compared to the men’s room. No graffiti, no
trash on the floor, it was an interesting sight.
Just then a movie let out somewhere and the washroom was filled
with women using the facilities, checking their makeup, and gossiping. Not
to draw attention to myself, I touched up my lipstick.
My thoughts were racing. Steve had broken his ‘no kissing’
promise. That bastard! I ought to just leave him stranded here. I hated him.
But, soon I began to calm down. It’s not like he whipped out his dick or
anything, he just ventured a kiss. If Jenni really were here, he’d probably
have gotten one. And how often had I tried to kiss a girl I didn’t know that
well? I shuddered when I remembered how embarrassing it was to try to kiss
a girl and be denied. Now I was experiencing a date from the woman’s point
of view. It was so humiliating! Is that how I appeared to women? I certainly hoped not.
The problem at hand, though, was Steve. What should I do? I
obviously couldn’t kiss him. But what would he think? I didn’t want him to
think that Jenni didn’t like him.
I came up with a plan. I would go for a walk with him. I would lay
it on thick and heavy about how much I liked him. I would tell him softly
and sincerely that I couldn’t kiss him on the first date, but the next time I saw
him I wouldn’t be so shy. That way he’d know that Jenni liked him and he
would be willing to come back. At the same time it would save me from kissing him.
When I stepped out of the theater, I realized that the movie had ended.
Steve stood in the lobby looking perplexed. He seemed to cheer up when I
suggested taking a walk.
I lead him to a park behind the geology building. It was dark and
secluded. We sat on a bench. “Steve,” I began “I really, really like you...”
that was as far as I got.
“I like you too,” he said. Then he grabbed me and kissed me. I tried
to struggle, but he was too powerful. I remember all the sensations: his
scratchy beard, his painful grip, the slobbering pressure of his lips. He
would not let go! I couldn’t get away! If I opened my mouth to yell I knew
he’d just jab his tongue in. I was trapped!
Then the solution hit me. I stopped struggling and sucked my lips
into my mouth. I stood stock still, without moving or responding. I had
guessed correctly, Steve soon lost interest.
As soon as my mouth was out of danger’s way, I lit into Steve. “You
promised me no kissing!” I hollered.
“Give me a break Jenni! Do you think I flew all this way for ‘no kissing?’ Or for just kissing? Now stop acting so coy!”
I stood up and jumped away. “Steve,” I began, barely able to keep
my voice feminine “I’m going to drive you to your hotel now. You’ll forgive
me if I ask you to take a cab to the airport tomorrow.”
Steve glared at me. “Forget it, slut. I’m walking.”
Steve stormed off, turning only to shout at me. “Bitch!”
I drove home well in excess of the speed limit. I had known that this
day was going to be horrible, but I didn’t think it would be this bad. Jesus, I
could still taste that jerk’s slobber in my mouth. I’d have to drink some
scalding hot coffee when I got home.
The worst part was I didn’t know what to say to Jenni. I didn’t think
she’d blame me, once I told her how he had assumed she wanted to sleep
with him and cursed me when he realized otherwise. But it would break her
heart. She was probably already picking out baby names, she was so sure
that things were going to work out for her and Steve. How would I tell my
own sister the man of her dreams was a total prick? She would be by in the
morning to pick up her car. I would have to think of something by then.
I walked into my apartment, counting the remaining seconds until I
could get into some decent male clothes. Much to my surprise, I realized that
John was back. He was passed out under the coffee table, cradling an empty
bottle of vodka like it was a teddy bear.
“Sleep tight, amigo,” I muttered to him as I walked towards my room. Suddenly, a voice from behind me made me turn. It was Jenni.
“Dale!” she yelped excitedly from front door. “I couldn’t wait. Tell
me every detail!” Jenni looked as excited as a child on Christmas morning. I
wished that I could tell her of the wonderful, romantic evening that ‘she’ had
just experienced. But she deserved the truth.
I asked her to sit down. I told her everything, not leaving anything
out, but not trying to make any moral judgments, either. He joy quickly
faded. By the time my story was done, she was sitting morosely with her
head in her hands.
“So he was just like all the others. Just wanted to screw a pretty face.
Just wanted to get laid. I never meant a thing to him. He’s probably got a
bunch of cyber-girlfriends.”
I wanted to be comforting, but I wasn’t sure what to say. “Sorry Jenni,” I said, lamely.
Jenni looked at me. Much to my relief, she didn’t look angry, at least
not at me. “Dale, you did more than anyone would have expected you to. I’m surprised you put up with so much before you told him off. Thanks, little brother.”
“Jenni, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Of course it was a big deal! I guess it was a stupid idea for me to
have you go in my place.”
I looked at my sister. “Yes, it was stupid. It was stupid that you
thought you had to have this elaborate ruse to get some guy to like you.
Promise me you’ll never do that again. When you meet someone special, and
I know you will, then you can proudly look him in the face.”
Jenni was about to sob, but she was smiling. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” We hugged. Jenni cried, and I shed a few tears myself.
Finally we calmed down. “So,” said Jenni, “what was being a woman like? Was it that bad?”
“Jenni it was horrible! Now I know what I look like to my dates!
Yuck!”
Jenni laughed. “I doubt you’re as bad as Steve. Well, now that it’s
over, you can forget it ever happened.”
“Almost over. Remember, I had to register as a female. I still have to
get that straightened out.”
There was a loud, painful ‘whack!’ as John sat bolt-upright and
cracked his head on the bottom of the coffee table. He staggered around the
living room, clutching his head and howling like a cat in a blender.
Finally he managed to find words. “Regist...regist...classes? No!
No! Ya can’t...ya...no!” He was still quite drunk.
“John, what in the hell are you babbling about?”
John tried to answer me, but then stopped. He clutched his stomach
and ran to the bathroom. For the next few minutes Jenni and I were treated to
the lovely music of John vomiting into (I hoped) the toilet.
“I don’t remember eating that,” mumbled John as he staggered out of
the bathroom and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He seemed a little more
sober now.
“John,” I said, with extreme patience, “what were you talking about
back there? About classes?”
As John brewed a pot of coffee, he explained. I was a freshman, Jenni was a sophomore. John, a junior (well, actually a third-year sophomore) knew something we didn’t.
Three years ago, the school ran rampant with cheating. Grad students
would openly take tests and write papers for wealthy undergrads. People
would have friends attend classes for them and take their tests. It got to be so
bad that you could literally graduate with honors, never having taken a test or
attended a class.
Academic papers had listen our college as ‘a joke of a school.’ TV
news shows gleefully exposed ‘Party U.’ No one who wanted a real
education would enroll. The state was about a hair’s breadth from revoking
our accreditation, and therefore any state funding.
The school had done the only thing it could possibly do. It went on
the offensive. Academic dishonesty became a suspendable offense. Anyone
who took a test or wrote a paper for anyone else would be kicked out of
school. In order to enforce this, students had to present their student ID to
the professor on the first day of class and at every test. If you tried to use
someone else’s ID, or if you showed up at a class that you weren’t registered
in, you could face suspension for a full term. There would be no chance to
make up the credit and no reimbursement of tuition.
The school never made an exception when it came to the rule. Two
years ago some star football players had paid some cheerleaders to take their
finals. Everyone involved was suspended. It cost the school its first bowl
game in ten years, but at least the state was satisfied. They kept their
accreditation and funding.
The horror of my situation began to dawn on me. I had registered as
a female. Could they actually think I had done that so I could have some
woman stand in for my classes?
“John,” I asked, “do you really think that just because my file says
‘FEMALE,’ they’ll kick me out?”
John mulled this over. “Maybe no one would care. Maybe. Your problem is that picture on your ID.”
I was getting mad. “You told me it was easy to get an ID replaced!”
“Replaced, sure. But your picture’s on file in the computers. They’ll
just use the same photo. They never change photos, too expensive.”
“So now I’m stuck with a woman’s ID! How can I go to classes?
How can I take tests? No one will ever believe this picture is of me!” I was
waving around my woman’s ID, furious. I turned to John and got right in
his face. “Why the hell didn’t you warn me?”
“Don’t blame me. How was I supposed to know you’d register
dressed like this?” He grinned at my costume. I was embarrassed to realized
that I was still dolled up like Jenni, and to make matters worse, my phoney
breasts were pressed right into John’s chest. I backed up.
“Did you go to your freshman orientation?” continued John. “They
explain about IDs there.” I hadn’t. I tried to think of a way to blame Jenni,
but what was the use? It was my job to register and I hadn’t.
“So what do I do now?” I asked, desperately. The three of us discussed it and came to the following conclusions.
1. I couldn’t risk trying to change my ID or just using the one I had. If I got
caught I could get kicked out. That would ruin my college career. I doubted
that any school authority would believe I had ‘accidentally’ registered in a
skirt.
2. I couldn’t put off going to college until next year and then reregistering as
myself. I had no where to go, I had paid two months rent on this apartment,
and I didn’t want to work some minimum wage job while I waited for next
year. To make matters worse, I would still owe student loans, whether I was
in school or not.
It was Jenni who came up with the solution I eventually adopted.
“Dale,” she asked “How important is going to this particular school to you?
I mean, would you be willing to go somewhere else?”
“Sure,” I said, “but that’s not an option. If I drop out of here I don’t
get all of my tuition back. I won’t have enough money to register at another
school.”
“Yes, but what if you transferred to another school next year? Since
you’re only taking basic freshman classes this year you won’t have to worry
about them accepting your transcript. Since I know you plan to study hard,
you won’t have to worry about not having a good enough GPA to be accepted somewhere else.”
“Sure, I could transfer. But that doesn’t get me out of the woods this
year. I’m stuck with this female ID!”
“Well, supposing you were a female.”
“But I’m n...” Then I realized what she was implying. “Oh, no! I’ll
be damned if I’m going to go to school as a girl! No way!”
“Dale, can you think of another way?” I tried to but failed.
“But Jenni, I can’t just attend classes as a girl and then go home and
be a guy again! Someone would catch on! I’d be caught.”
“Well, you could dress full time.”
“Well you could dress full time,” I mimicked. “Yeah, great. Live as
a woman for a damn year. I’m really going to do that.”
“Dale, I think it’s the only way.”
I didn’t feel like having this conversation anymore. I ran to my room
and slammed the door.


Chapter Four:
It was the first day of classes. As I sat in my desk in my freshman
English class, I wondered why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because it
was the first day or classes, or that I was worried about doing good in
school. Or maybe it was because I was dressed like a freaking woman! Here
it was, my first day of school, and I’m wearing a dress and high heels. I had
begged Jenni to help me find something that would make me look frumpy
and ugly, but she had insisted on making me look like a cute little coed. My
hair was tied back in a pony tail, my face was made up, and my nails were
painted (my real nails now).
Jenni had laid down several rules for my new life. No more working
out at the gym, women don’t have big muscles. No dating, women don’t
date other women. No belching, or drinking beer, or bashing heads in the
mosh pit, too unladylike.
The worst thing was how I was treated by guys. They flirted with
me! They went out of their way to talk to me or ask me if I needed help. I
wondered if they knew how obvious their intentions were. Probably not. Every time a guy hit on me I my manhood would be questioned. It was being questioned almost every day now.
I looked around the room. There were at least four women whose
telephone number I would have loved to have had. I sighed as a guy who
was no better looking than me sat down next to one of them and easily started
a conversation.
“Hi, how you doing?” I heard a voice next to me. Some big jock-
type was sitting next to me. He was smiling intently. Christ, not again. I
wasn’t in the mood to fend off his flirtations, so I mumbled “Fine,” and
turned away. Maybe his feelings would be hurt, but what of it? He could get
a date later, I couldn’t. I adjusted my dress again. It was such a pain,
constantly having to make sure I wasn’t sitting with my legs spread apart.
The professor came in. The first thing he did was collect IDs and
check them. Some schmuck who had forgotten his was forced to go home
and get it, thus missing the entire class. I guess John had been right, I never
would have gotten away dressing like a man and having a woman’s ID.
The class was interesting, but I didn’t care. I never volunteered
anything and only answered questions when I was called upon. I had gone
from being the high school class clown to a shy college girl. I didn’t like it,
not one bit.
After class, a pretty girl in a sorority sweater came up and started
talking to me. “Hi,” she said with a cute Boston accent “I’m Stephanie.”
“I’m Dale,” I replied.
“That’s an original name. I like it. You seemed nervous back there,
was something wrong?”
Stephanie had short dark hair, big brown eyes, and a nice figure. I
was enraptured. “Oh, nothing,” I answered. “I’m just new in this area and
the campus is a little overwhelming.”
Stephanie smiled. “Oh, you just need to make some friends. My
sorority is having a mixer tonight. Why don’t I pick you up and we’ll go
together?”
My soul soared, then crashed back to earth. She wasn’t asking me
out, she was just being nice to what she thought was another girl. If she had
seen me as a guy she might not have given me the time of day. I gave he my
address.
That night, I got ready for the party. Jenni insisted that I wear one of
her skirts, but conceded that if I wore a sweater it wouldn’t look out of place.
She cautioned me to be careful around any drunk frat guys.
Stephanie rang the bell a few minutes later. She seemed surprised to
find that John was my roommate. As we were driving away, I told her that
John and I were only friends.
“Maybe so,” she said “but be careful. Guys only have on thing on their minds. Don’t be surprised if he comes on to you one day.”
I thanked her, though I figured that John would probably be able to
control himself around me.
When we pulled up in front of the sweltering Greek house, the party
was going on in full swing. Music was blasting, people were dancing,
everyone was having a good time. As soon as we got inside, I knew I
wasn’t going to be able to enjoy myself. If I had been dressed as I guy I
would have already been off hitting on some girl. Now I stood quietly at
Stephanie’s side, wishing I hadn’t come. It didn’t help that the big frat guy
who was watching the door made a pass at me.
Stephanie introduced me around. I met several pretty girls who I would never be able to ask out and several guys who you would have thought were being introduced to my chest, from where their eyes were fixed.
“Hey, Steph, baby!” someone called out. We turned around to see some guy who made John look like a spokesman for a temperance society.
Moronically drunk did not even begin to describe him. He stumbled over to
Stephanie and leered at her.
“Back off, Howie,” she yelled at him above the music. “I told you
it’s over. We’re through.”
She pointedly turned her back on him. He tried to say something, but
only managed to puke all over her back. “Oh, gross!” she screamed, and ran
for the bathroom. Without thinking, I followed.
We were alone in the bathroom. I shut and locked the door. When I
turned around, I was shocked to see that she had removed her shirt and was
soaking it in the sink. I nearly fell over when her bra followed.
After senior prom last year I had made love to my date. That had
been my one sexual experience. The sight of the female body still was new
and very exciting to me. Here Stephanie stood, not three feet from me, her
naked chest fully visible.
She tried in vain to look over her shoulder. “Did that jerk get any barf
on my back?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. There was some, but only a spot the size of a pencil
lead.
“Would you mind?” she asked, hanging me a wet washcloth.
I ran the warm, wet cloth down her bare back, shoulders, and neck. I
felt my penis strain against the sex hiding panties as it tried to get erect. I
wanted to grab her, kiss her, tell her she was gorgeous. Instead I simply
handed her back the cloth and told her that she was clean.
Stephanie hung her shirt over the shower curtain and began telling me
about her relationship with Howie. I turned my head so I wouldn’t be caught
starting at her perfect breasts. I stared at them in the mirror instead.
I felt bad. Stephanie was telling me all her life’s troubles, not realizing
that I was just some guy who was paying more attention to her erect nipples
than to her story.
She was interrupted by a banging at the door. “Out in a second!” she
called. Then the door burst open. I had locked it, but the lock was old and ill
fitting. It was that puking drunk, Howie.
“Get out of here!” Stephanie screamed, covering her breasts with her
hands. Howie didn’t listen. He just pinned her against the wall and began
kissing her. She couldn’t get away without exposing her bare chest.
“Get away from her!” I shouted.
“Quiet, you!” Howie shot back at me, and grabbed Stephanie’s rear.
That was assault, no matter how you looked at it. I had to do
something. Without stopping to think, I punched him in the back of his
head. He staggered, fell, banged his head on the sink, and was out like a
light. I think the booze was mostly to blame.
Stephanie was too shocked to say anything. I knew I had to get her
out of there. Her top was still too damp to wear, so I ran out, grabbed my
coat, and threw it over her shoulders. I then picked up her shirt and bra and
lead her by the hand out a back door.
By the time we got back to the car, she was sufficiently recovered to
drive. When we got back to my place she thanked me for my heroics.
“Oh, I was just helping out. It was no big deal.”
“Of course it was a big deal. Where did you learn to punch like that?”
“I, uh, took a self defense class.”
“Well if paid off. Men are such jerks. I don’t know why we even bother.”
I felt obliged to defend my sex. “Well, not all men are jerks.”
“Sometimes it seems like it. Good night, Dale.” She kissed me on
the cheek and drove off.
I walked inside. I had just saved a girl from an assailant and all I got
was a ‘men are jerks,’ speech. God, how could I survive for a year without
hope of a date?
When I first walked into my bedroom I thought that I had somehow
wandered into the wrong apartment by mistake. Nothing was familiar. But
the room was the same. It was everything that was in it that was different.
All the male clutter that had characterized my room since as far back
as I could remember was gone. Everything was neat and tidy. But that wasn’t what was strange.
All my stuff was gone! My posters of football players and swimsuit
models had been replaced by prints of nature scenes and angels! The cruddy
sheets on my unmade bed were now replaced by a pink comforter, frilly
pillows, and a teddy bear! There was a vase of dried flowers on my now
neat desk and some dumb clown knick-knack on my window sill. There was
no sign of my catcher’s mitt, my fake executioner’s axe or my pipe. Floral
curtains covered the previously bare windows.
I yanked open my closet. All my clothes and my hockey stick were
gone. All that was left were the few outfits I had borrowed from Jenni. All
my underwear was missing from my chest of drawers. In its place were
some new pairs of panties in various colors. There was also a new makeup
kit, a woman’s razor, and a bag of cotton balls.
Who had done this? I read the mailing label on one the fashion
magazines that had mysteriously replaced my ‘Sports Illustrateds.’ Just as I
thought, Jenni.
As if on cue, she walked into the room. “What do you think? It took
hours for me to change everything,” she said happily, as if I would be proud
of her efforts.
I lost it. “What do I think? What do you think I think? Where’s all
my stuff?”
“Relax. I put it in storage.”
“I will not relax! You had no right to do this! My room is the one
place I can be myself and you destroyed it! It looks like a woman lives here
now!”
“That’s the idea, silly. You’re such a social animal, I knew it would
only be a matter of time before you had friends over. You couldn’t very well
have them see a picture of Kathy Ireland on the wall or your jockstrap hanging on the door, could you?”
“That’s not the point! And you!” I yelled at John, who had just walked in. “How could you just stand by and let her do this?”
“I make it a point never to get involved.”
“Never to get involved in what?”
“In anything,” he replied, and smiled idiotically.
“I wanna talk with you,” I barked at Jenni, “right now.”
We both sat down on the living room couch. John, uninvited, sat
between us. He never added anything to the ensuing discussion, though he
would rotate his head 180 degrees to stare out whoever was talking.
“Jenni, ever since I had to start dressing like this, you’ve developed a
bossy streak that I don’t like.”
“That’s because you don’t know the first thing about being a woman.
You need my help. It’s for your own good.”
“Yeah, stealing all my stuff. That’s for my own good. When I need
your help I’ll ask for it. Until then, stop trying to run my life, I’m doing fine
as it is.”
“Yeah, you’re doing real fine,” Jenni shot back sarcastically. “I just
called a friend who was at that party you were at. Seemed some ‘girl’ knocked out a big dude. Sound familiar?”
“Oh, now you’re checking up on me, huh? Yeah, I hit him. He was sexually assaulting a friend of mine. Should I have just sat back and watched?”
“You should have called for help. Someone would have been there in
two seconds.”
“That’s not the point. If you had had the guts to meet Steve, I wouldn’t be in this stupid situation!”
“Hey, I’m not the one who was too dumb to register. You need my help, you can’t even run your life as a guy!”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t especially like having you around.
In fact, I’m not even sure I want to see you anymore!”
“Fine by me, asshole!”
We had never been that angry with each other before. I’m not sure
what would have happened had John not shaken up the beer he was drinking
and spritzed it all over the both of us.
“What the hell did you do that for?” we yelled in unison.
“To shut you both up. You were acting like a couple of three-year-
olds. Last week you two were so close, what’s gotten into you? No, don’t
interrupt, listen to me. Dale: you don’t have the slightest idea how to be a
woman. I know you hate it, but your sister knows what she’s doing and
she’s only trying to help, so listen to her. Jenni: Dale’s right, you have
gotten really bossy lately. I know you’re only doing what you think is right,
but it’s at least partially your fault this happened, so have some tact. No
more doing things without telling him.”
There was a long silence. “What happened to ‘not getting involved?’”
Jenni finally asked John.
“No, he’s right,” I said. “Jenni, I’m sorry. You know this hasn’t
been easy on me and I didn’t mean to blow up at you. I know you just wanted to help.”
“I’m sorry too Dale. It is partly my fault you have to do this, I just
am trying to make things easier in the long run. I’ll be nicer from now on.”
“Friends again?”
“You bet, little brother.” We hugged.
“You know, Jenni, I don’t think that it’s that I mind learning how to
be a female so much. It’s that I hate being reminded that I’m a guy dressing
in drag. It’s so humiliating, even around you. I think if I could take
femininity lessons from someone who didn’t know I wasn’t a woman, then
things might be easier on me. I guess that wouldn’t be possible, though.”
“Hang on,” said John. He held his head, as if all this unaccustomed
thinking was causing him pain. “I had this friend last year. He had a real
bad speech impediment.”
“Did his stutter?” asked Jenni.
“Worse than that, he was from Georgia. He wanted to be an actor,
but he sounded kinda silly, reciting Shakespeare with the drawl of his. ‘Tah
be, orah naught tah be.’ Anyhow, he met this guy over in the drama school.
He set my friend up with some self hypnosis tapes that cured him of he drawl
in a year. He said they had all kinds of tapes for actors. I think he said they
had something about acting more feminine, you know, for them ‘tea and crumpet’ type rolls.”
“Self-hypnosis? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Well, you might as well go over to the drama school and see if they
can help you. What was the name of that guy with the tapes? Uh, Leonard...Larry...no! Leroy! Leroy Brown.”
“John, that’s a song.”
“Yeah, that’s why I remembered his name. Leroy Brown, same as the song. Well, g’night all.” John finished his beer and went to bed.
“So what do you think?” asked Jenni.
“About what?” I replied.
“About what John said.”
“I dunno. Sounds pretty far fetched to me.”
“About the self hypnosis?”
“No, about John having a friend.”
We both laughed. “Seriously, Dale. It might be just what you need.”
“Well, it sounds too much like brainwashing to me.”
“You might as well check it out. They might not even have the tapes
anymore.”
“OK, I’ll stop by tomorrow after classes.”


Chapter Five:
The next day after classes, I stopped by the fine arts building. It was
run down and badly in need of maintenance. The drama department was in
even worse shape. Though classes had started, the drama school part of the
building seemed deserted. Finally I ran across two guys in one of the
classrooms. They were moving a desk (or so I thought at the time. Now that
I think back on it, they might actually have been trying to steal it).
“Excuse me, is this the drama department?” I asked.
“It sure is,” said one of the guys, dropping his end of the desk. “Are
you here to try out for ‘Midsummer?’”
“Excuse me?”
“Midsummer Night’s Dream. That play we’re putting on. You want an audition?” He seemed rather desperate.
“Uh, sorry no. I’m looking for a man named Leroy Brown.”
I expected them to laugh at what I was sure was a made-up name, but
the other guy remarked that Leroy was in the prop room. I thanked them and
left.
The prop room was in the basement of the building. I walked down a
dingy staircase into a dimly-lit room. Crates and boxes were piled
everywhere, rows of dusty costumes lined the walls. In the back of the room
I could make out the figure of a man.
“Leroy? Leroy Brown?” I called out.
The figure turned and I got a good look at him. The song ‘Leroy
Brown’ describes Leroy as “The baddest man in the whole damn town/
badder than old King Kong/ meaner than a junk yard dog.” If this guy was
Leroy Brown, he certainly didn’t live up to his name. He wasn’t much taller
than me. He was skinny and seemed a little awkward. He wore think
glasses that seemed a little too big for his face. He was dirty from working in
the messy prop room. On the other hand, he seemed to be wiry and strong,
and had a friendly face. He was the kind of guy that Jenni referred to as
“Charmingly nerdish.” Good looking, but a little unsure of himself; someone
who would be more willing to accept the faults of others. Jenni often went
after that type of guy in hopes that he’d be willing to date her. It had never
worked.
Leroy smiled, and then shocked me by saying “Oh Helen, nymph,
goddess, perfect, divine! To what, thy love, shall I compare thine eyne?”
I didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry?”
Leroy seemed embarrassed. “Whoops. They told me someone was
coming over to addition for the part of Helena, I thought it was you.” He
looked at his watch. “Guess she’s not showing. Damn, we were counting on her,” he said dissapointedly.
“Is this for that Midsummer play?” I asked.
“Yeah. You’ve heard of it?”
“Only in this building. What’s up?”
“Well, you might have heard that enrollment in the drama school has
really fallen off over the past few years. They say they’re going to shut
down the school next year. Me and some other drama students thought that
maybe, if we put on a good play, I mean a really good play, then we might
make the administration realize that we add something to the school. I was all
set to play Demetrius. We’re still short a few cast members, though. Would
you like to be in the play?”
I was flattered, but had to decline. I didn’t exactly want to appear on
stage dressed as a woman. I felt sad for Leroy, though. If the drama school
shut down he’d have to change majors or change schools.
“That’s OK,” said Leroy. “It was just a thought.” He wiped his hands on a rag. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I heard that you had some self hypnosis tapes. You know, to
help people with their behavior and such. Do you really have anything like
that?”
“Yeah, though I haven’t seen them since some guy from Georgia
needed to work on his accent a couple of years ago. Let me have a look.”
Leroy began hunting around in the morass of boxes and crates. It
seemed like a thankless and tiring task. I very much doubted that he would
go digging through all these boxes for another man. That was one advantage
of womanhood, men were always willing to help me out. Finally, he pulled
two old shoeboxes out of a larger box and sat them on a barrel in front of me.
He opened one, revealing dozens of dusty tapes. ‘Stop stuttering’ read one.
‘Commanding stage presence,’ read another. “The psychology department
helped make these up in the late 50’s,” Leroy explained. “They were
originally on records, but someone must have dubbed them to cassette since
then. What exactly do you need?”
“Well, this might sound silly, but I need something to help me act
more like a woman.”
Leroy snorted. “That does sound silly.”
“I’m serious! You see, I’ve always wanted to be an actress...”
“You have? Well, this Midsummer role...”
I silenced him with a look, a trick that I found only worked when
people thought I was a woman. I continued. “I want to do some acting, but
I just don’t feel ladylike. My gestures are too masculine, I don’t really have
the right female mindset. Could your tapes help me with anything like that?”
“Well, I still say the problem is all in your mind, but let’s see what we
got.” He rummaged through the boxes and pulled out a tape. Feminine deportment,’ read the label.
“So how exactly do these tapes work?” I asked.
“You play them while you sleep. They sound like music, but they have a voice on them that only your subconscious mind picks up.”
“I don’t understand. What exactly does the voice say?”
“Well, these tapes work on the same principal those ‘stop smoking’
tapes. The voice tells your mind to do something that you lack the willpower
or knowledge to do. Eventually your mind starts listening to the message and
doing what it says.”
That sounded scary. “What if I don’t like what the message tells me
to do?”
“Don’t worry about it. Despite what you see in the movies, you can’t
hypnotize someone against their will. It’s just like the stop smoking tapes. If
you don’t really want to quit, no amount of tapes can make you. Besides, I
wouldn’t worry about these tapes. They’re designed for actors and actresses.
They’ll help you walk and talk like a female, but won’t transform you into
June Cleaver or anything.”
“How long do the effects last?” I asked.
“As long as you want them too. Remember, your mind is in charge.
The tapes can help you make changes as long as you want them. Stop
wanting the changes, the tapes stop working. Of course, if you want the
changes to be permanent, like not smoking or acting ladylike or whatever,
you only have to listen to the tapes for a while. Once the desired behavior
becomes second nature you won’t need to be hypnotized any longer. But that
would be an extreme case. I’ve never known a smoker who didn’t occasionally sneak a cigarette. If you really want to make permanent changes, you’d probably have to listen to this tape for years.”
That was a relief. I had had fears of being hypnotized into behaving
like a woman and then not being able to change back when the time came.
I took the cassette. Leroy, after telling me once again he didn’t think I
really needed it, offered to show me out. I really didn’t need help getting out
of the small building, but I didn’t feel like an argument.
As we were leaving the theater, I noticed a poster for the film I had
seen on my infamous date with Steve. It was playing at a local theater and I
remembered that, thanks to Steve’s raging hormones, I never had seen the
ending.
Leroy noticed me reading the ad. “Do you like that film?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess. I saw it once, but never got to see the end.”
“Well, I’m going to see it this Friday. Do you want to come with?”
“Uh, yeah, why not? I’ll have to ask to borrow my sister’s car, though.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick you up.”
We sat a time to meet and I left.
When I returned to my apartment that afternoon, I found Jenni was
there, reading a magazine. Ever since the start of the school year, it seemed
like she had practically moved in with me. Not that I minded, I enjoyed her
company. John was busy blasting out the heavy metal version of The William Tell Overture on his bass guitar.
“Hi Dale!” shouted Jenni over the noise John was making. “How’d things go at the drama school?”
“Not bad. I got the tape. I doubt it will do me any good, but it’s
worth a try. Anything to help me get adjusted to this crazy life.”
“Well, I hope it works. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks. What
do you say I take you to dinner this Friday, my treat?”
“That’d be great. Oh, wait, I can’t. I told some guy from the drama
school I’d see a movie with him.”
The was nasty sound as John hit an even more sour chord that usual.
I then realized that both John and Jenni were staring at me with shocked
expressions on their faces.
“You...you have a date?” asked Jenni uncertainly.
“Hell no! What are you talking about? I’m just going to the movies
with a friend.”
“Who’s idea was it?” she asked.
“Well, it was his and...stop looking and me like that, you two! It’s
just two friends going to see a film.”
“Are you going Dutch?” asked John.
“Well, no, he said he’d get the tickets from the box office, but that
doesn’t mean anything.”
“Are you meeting him there or is he picking you up?” asked Jenni.
“He’s picking me up, but what of it?”
“Well” said John, “I’m no Casanova, but if I asked a girl to see a
movie with me, and I was picking her up and paying for it, I would just assume...”
It then hit me. How could I have been so stupid? Leroy had clearly
asked me out and I had stupidly said yes! That’s what comes from thinking
like a man and living like a woman. I had thought Leroy was just asking a
buddy to see a flick, while Leroy had obviously thought I had agreed to a
date. Maybe the hypnosis tapes would help me avoid situations like this.
I felt like punching the wall. “So what do I do now?”
“Easy enough,” said Jenni. “Just call him and cancel. Say something
came up.”
“But I don’t have his number! All I know is that he’s a drama student.”
“Well,” said Jenni, “perhaps you can find him at the drama school.”
John shook his head. “No dice. The drama school’s almost bankrupt. The building’s only opened on Mondays and Tuesdays.” It was Tuesday afternoon.
“Well,” I said “that settles it. I guess I’ll just have to wait until Friday
and then tell him I’m sick.”
“Yeah, that would be just great!” said John in a surprisingly angry
voice. “Just let him think he has a date all week, and then stand him up on
Friday night. That’ll do wonders for his self esteem.” Clearly John had been
on the receiving end of this treatment before. He obviously didn’t care for
people who stood dates up at the last minute, whatever the reason.
“Well, John, what am I supposed to do? Be his girlfriend? He’s not
going to get anywhere with me, that’s for damn sure.”
“Just see the movie with him. When it’s over, tell him you just want
to be friends.”
“And you think he won’t be hurt by that?”
“Of course he’ll be hurt! But it won’t be as bad as getting stood up at
the last minute.” John seemed very bitter. I wondered what had happened in
his past romantic life that made him so defensive about the feelings of others.
“I’m sorry John, I just really don’t want to go out with him. I know
it’s my fault, but I’m not going to do it.”
“Look,” said John, somewhat calmer, “if you don’t feel safe, why don’t Jenni and I go with you? A double date. We won’t let anything happen.”
“You’re going to badger me about this until I do the right thing, aren’t
you?”
John smiled his moronic smile. “Yep.”
“Fine. I’ll do it, but only because he was nice to me and I don’t want
to be mean in return. And that’s the ONLY reason I’m doing it. The first
time I hear either of you act like I want to do this, I’m history.”
Jenni and John smiled innocently.
The next afternoon, Jenni took me to the mall to go clothes shopping.
I didn’t really feel up to it, but since I only had two or three outfits in my
wardrobe I figured it was a necessity.
The first things we bought were shoes, since I only had two pairs and
neither of them really fit. It wasn’t easy finding them in my size, but
eventually I managed to get some high heels, some pumps, and a pair of women’s sneakers.
Next, Jenni dragged me into Victoria’s Secrets. I refused to buy and
of the lacy feminine undergarments she picked out for me. I simply purchased a set of female pajamas and a matching bathrobe.
Then Jenni took me through practically every clothing store in the
entire mall. It was a strange feeling, ducking into the women’s dressing
room to try on a skirt, but I soon got used to it. Jenni helped me select all the
clothes I would need for the coming year: t-shirts, jeans, skirts, dresses,
blouses, a coat, a jacket, and sweaters. As the clerk rang up our purchases, I
realized something.
“Jenni, how can you afford all this?” She pretended not to hear me. I
asked her again.
“Oh, I saved up a little. Don’t worry about it.”
“Saved up a little? Jenni, you were broke last week. How can you
pay for all this?”
“Well, I sold my computer. It’s no big deal. John said I could use
his.”
I was stunned. All John had was a crappy old laptop that didn’t even
have a modem. “Jenni, how could you do that? You loved that computer!”
“Well, it’s mostly my fault that you have to dress this way, so I might
as well dress you in style. You couldn’t really go through the year wearing
whatever I happen to have clean. Besides, your comments about me being
afraid of Steve got me thinking. I have been hiding on the internet. I’ve been
afraid to face the world. I think it’s time that I get out there and make friends
that I don’t have to be online to talk to.”
I smiled at her. I hoped she was telling me the truth. I knew how
much she liked that computer and I hated to see her get rid of it on my account.
“Thank you Jenni. I think you’re doing the right thing, getting out
more, and believe it or not, I do appreciate the clothes. Is there anything I
can do to make it up to you?”
“Maybe there is. I was thinking that clip-on earrings don’t look right
on you. You’d really look a lot better with pierced ears. Lots of guys have
pierced ears and the holes would heal by the time you went back to being a
guy.”
I won’t bore you with a long transcript of my protestations. Suffice it
to say that I left the mall that day with two small gold studs in my lobes.

[sarat]

Chapter Six:
That night I got ready for my non-date date. I just wanted to throw
on a t-shirt and go, but Jenni insisted that I take a shower and put on makeup.
I drew the line at wearing a pretty dress. Lots of women had gone out with
me wearing a sweater and jeans and I figured that was good enough for me
tonight. Jenni, on the other hand, was dressed to the nines. I guess she was
making good on her resolution to get out more, she seemed to enjoy the idea
of a night on the town. She looked awful pretty, even with the scars. Who
knows, maybe the idea of her having a boyfriend wasn’t so far fetched.
John wore his least smelly t-shirt and combed his hair. For him, that
was dressing up.
At the appointed time, Leroy showed up, freshly showered and shaved. “You look great,” he said.
“So do you,” I replied without thinking.
Leroy seemed a little disappointed that John and Jenni would be
coming with us. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. It’s not easy for a guy to
put the moves on a girl when her friends are around. I was glad they were
coming, now maybe I didn’t have as much to worry about.
We drove to the movies in Leroy’s car. This time, it was playing in
one of those ‘art’ theaters, the kind that show foreign films and other flicks
without car chases. Jenni loved that sort of place. John was put out that they
didn’t sell Milk Duds or candy bars. Leroy seemed to be enjoying himself. I
just wanted the evening to be over.
As soon as the lights went dim, I had a horrible thought: what if
Leroy put his arm around me like Steve had? I was planning on telling Leroy
I just wanted to be friends after the movie. That would be a lot harder to tell
him if I had let him hold me during the movie; he might think I was a tease.
On the other hand, if I shrugged away or told him to back off, that might
really hurt his pride. While I had no desire to get physical with him, I really
didn’t want to make him think he was unlikable. He was a nice guy, but I
wasn’t interested in nice guys.
As it turned out I had nothing to worry about; he never made an overt
move. He did, however, keep inching his hand towards mine. It was
obvious that he was hoping that I’d move my hand closer to his and we’d end
up holding hands. Every time I noticed him doing this, I pretended to adjust
my hair or scratch my wrist to get my hand out of the danger zone.
Finally, the movie was over. Despite the fact that John had made gunfire noise during the many combat scenes, it was kind of a fun experience. Still, I was more than ready for it to be over.
As we walked to the car, Leroy asked “So who wants to grab a bite to
eat?” I made up an excuse about having a headache and asked to be driven
home. I felt like slugging John when he said “Well, I’m damn hungry.
C’mon Jenni, I know a place near here where you can get ten burgers for ten
bucks!”
They were off into the night. I was so pissed! They knew I didn’t
want to be left alone with Leroy and they just went off to grab some food.
Some friends.
Leroy seemed pleased with the turn of events. He was clearly hoping
that I’d invite him inside and then offer to slip into something more comfortable. Fat chance of that happening.
Leroy walked me to the door of my building. “Jenni, I had a really
good time tonight,” he said.
“So did I,” I replied. That was all it took. His face was slowly
moving towards mine, going in for the obligatory good-night kiss. Not tonight, pal.
“Listen Leroy,” I said, backing away, “I like you, you’re a nice
guy,” I took a deep breath and then said it, “but I think we should just be
friends.” There. Short and nasty, but honest. I didn’t want to hurt him, but
I sure as hell didn’t want to lead him on.
Leroy took it like a man. “OK,” he said. “I understand. But if you
really want to be my friend, will you do something for me?”
“Uh, what did you have in mind?” If there was one thing I had
learned recently, it was not to promise anything without thinking first.
“It’s about the play. We have every part cast except for the role of
Helena. If we don’t start practicing soon, and I mean like this week, we’re
sunk. You’d be perfect.”
Ug. “Leroy, I dunno...”
“Look, practice is only two nights a week, and the performance is right after Christmas break so it won’t take up that much of your time. Besides, you told me you wanted that tape to help you become an actress.
Well, here’s your big chance!”
There was that old familiar feeling again. I felt like I was the only one
who wasn’t controlling my life. I couldn’t back out on Leroy without him
thinking that I had been lying to him. I agreed; if anything I’d be helping out
some struggling actors. Besides, Jenni wasn’t the only one who needed to
get out more. Maybe acting would be a fun way to meet people, if only for a
while.
After Leroy drove off, I consulted some old reference books I had
lying around. I finally found a synopsis of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’
The character I would be playing, Helena, was a shy girl who falls in love
with, and eventually marries, a man named Demetrius.
I had heard the name Demetrius before. That was the role Leroy had
said he would be playing.
Summer turned into fall, and fall into winter. John had a few more
gigs. Jenni, although she never managed to get a date, was more sociable
than she had been in a long time. It was good to see her getting out more.
She seemed to have a lot more self esteem.
As for me, I was enjoying college life. Despite everything, I was
managing to make friends and get out of the apartment. Every day I would
rise an hour earlier than I had when I was living as a guy. I would shower
and then do my hair. Jenni had arranged for me to have a perm, now my hair
had a slight curl to it. Instead of just letting it hang free, I had to decide how
I wanted to wear it that day: down, in a pony tail, in a bun, braided, or
whatever.
After I had my hair fixed the way I wanted, I would start on my
makeup. Due to months of practice, I had finally gotten to the point where I
could make up my face satisfactorily. It was a dull process for me and I
envied the many women I knew who didn’t use makeup. Unlike them, they
didn’t need to prove to the world that they were women. I did. Still, that
deception was getting easier and easier every day. I learned that a little
makeup can go a long way. Another thing that helped was the electrolysis
treatments I used to get rid of the few hairs on my face. I resigned myself to
the fact that growing a beard really wasn’t in my future, and to tell you the
truth, it was nice not having to shave my face every couple of days.
Unfortunately, I still had to shave my legs.
When my makeup was finished I would decide what I wanted to wear
that day. Gone were the days when my only wardrobe decision dealt with
whether my jeans were too smelly to wear another day. Now words like
‘style,’ ‘matching,’ and ‘accessorize,’ had meaning to me. I would often
dress myself, decide that I didn’t like what I had on, and change.
When I was finally ready to go, I would walk to class. I had been
true to my promise to do well in school, I was excelling in every subject.
When classes had first started, I would rush home and stay in my apartment
for the rest of the day. Now I would usually stop for a coffee in the student
union or go to the gym and work out. I didn’t pump iron like I used to, of
course, but I did do a lot of jogging and aerobics which helped me slim down.
Twice a week, in the evenings, I would go to play practice. At the
first rehearsal I had realized that all of the other cast members were far and
away better actors than I was. That meant I had to practice twice as much. I
would often read my part over and over again at home, with Jenni and John
reading the other lines. If this play didn’t save the drama school it wasn’t
going to be because I didn’t try.
Despite my early misgivings, my social life really took off. Though I
managed never to get roped into another date, I did have a lot of friends to
hang out with. Most of them were cast members from the play who always
included me in their parties, road trips, and nights out. They were a great
group of people. Sometimes I would see a movie or have a cup of coffee
with Stephanie, the girl who had taken me to my first college party. Other
nights I would hang out with members of the campus Greenpeace
organization that I had recently joined. Sometimes Jenni, John, Leroy and
myself would rent a movie or just sit around and talk.
Leroy had taken my request that we just be friends very seriously.
He might not have stood a chance with me romantically, but he seemed
genuinely interested in being my friend. He showed me around town and
introduced me to a lot of his companions. He was a real nice guy and I
enjoyed hanging out with him, but only platonically, nothing more. He
would still occasionally try to hold my hand or give me a hug, but he always
took my rejection in stride. I guess it was true what they say: a guy could
never truly be friends with a pretty girl. He’d always think of her as a sex
object, if only subconsciously.
I didn’t like the fact that in a year I would never see any of my new
friends again. They were a lot of fun to be with, but I couldn’t very well
keep hanging out with them once I changed colleges and went back to being a
guy. It was hard on me, a lot of them had gone out of their way to help me
fit in and I was going to leave them without any explanation. Still, I was
counting the days until I could toss away my panties and skirts forever.
I was listening to the hypnosis tapes every night. I have no idea if
they helped or not; like Leroy said, the effects could be almost anything. I
did notices that I had gradually gone from thinking of myself as a perverted
man in a dress to more of a double-agent type roll. I felt like I was living
someone else’s life and that soon I could go back to being myself. It did me
good to think of my life that way. I could stop focusing on what I was
missing and start concentrating on what fun I could be having at the present
time.
The thing that really bothered me was the fact that I had no chance of
getting a date for an entire year. I was eighteen years old and my hormones
were raging. Every time I saw a pretty girl, I would go nuts with unfulfilled
desire. Once I had approached Jenni with the idea of joining a lesbian organization in hopes of meeting a woman who would like me as I was.
Jenni had practically forbidden me. She was right, it was a dumb idea. I’d
probably get caught and then my secret would be out. Besides, it would be
mean to play with the emotions of some poor girl who thought she was dating a woman.
One night back in late August I was sitting in Jenni’s dorm. She was
giving me a pedicure. I didn’t enjoy it, but she seemed to, and I didn’t really
mind. Once again, I broached the subject of my date-free life. It wasn’t the
current absence of women in my life that was really getting me down, I said.
It was the fact that the absence would continue on until the summer with no
chance of letting up. It really bummed me out.
“Well Dale,” replied Jenni, putting away the toenail polish, “you are
at that age where about all a guy thinks about is girls. It’s those raging
hormones that are doing it.”
“I know, but I guess there’s nothing to be done. Jesus, I feel like I’m
in prison here. I figured I’d already have a girlfriend by now, and of course I
don’t.”
“Listen Dale, I was on the internet today (though Jenni had sold her
computer, she could still access the internet at the library). I found out about
a chemical that could reduce your sexual desires greatly. Do you think that
would make life easier for you?”
“Yeah, I think that it would. It seems like all I think about is women.
What’s this chemical called?”
“Well...estrogen.”
“Estrogen? Female hormones? Sorry babe, I’m not that desperate.”
Jenni pulled out some computer printouts. “Would you let me explain?”
“Explain what? That I’d grow breasts and start to like guys? Gimme
a break!”
“It’s not like that, Dale. Now listen.” She consulted her sheets.
“Your testicles, as you probably know, are producing a chemical called
testosterone. That’s what makes you a man. It make you like women, and
have facial hair and rough skin and such. But if you were to start taking
estrogen pills, then that would sort of neutralize the testosterone. Your sex
drive would really drop off. Of course, you would develop some second-
hand female characteristics. Your body fat would redistribute into a more
womanly figure, so maybe you could get rid of some of that padding I know
you hate. Your skin would get a little softer are more girlish, so you might
be able to go without makeup sometimes. Your penis would grow smaller, so you could get a looser undergarment.”
I snorted. “And next year I could just register as a girl again, since
I’d practically look like one!”
“Don’t be silly Dale. The estrogen would be fighting your
testosterone. As soon as you stopped taking it all the new effects would go
away. You’d slowly start to feminize, but you’d turn back into a man much
more rapidly.”
“But what if I started to like guys? I can’t risk that!”
Jenni shook her head. “No chance. Sexual persuasion is all in the
mind. Hormones can lower your sex drive, but not change it.”
“Would I grow boobs?”
“Well, they say that your nipples enlarge and become more sensitive.
Fat is redistributed to the chest, so I guess you would eventually grow tiny
ones, though I’m not sure that you’d have time to do that. Just like all the
other characteristics, they’d disappear when you stopped the estrogen. Here,
look at this.”
She handed me a color printout. It was contained two columns of
photos. On the left where pictures of guys, ranging from wimpy to studly.
On the right hand side were pictures of various women, ranging from plain to
sexy. It didn’t take long for me to realized that the women were actually the
men after hormone therapy.
One picture showed a skinny, black-haired guy standing on a beach.
He was wearing swimming trunks. The corresponding photo showed a
curvy, topless woman posed erotically before a fireplace. She had very small
breasts, but they were definitely something you would not find on a man.
The nipples struck me especially; they were dark and erect. Her painted
fingers covered her crotch and, I supposed, ‘her’ penis.
Another picture showed a blonde guy with his arm around a woman.
‘Tim,’ the first picture was labeled. The other picture showed a lovely, long
haired blonde, wearing a one-piece bathing suit. ‘Tamara,’ said the other
photo.
I handed the paper back to Jenni. “I dunno, sis. This seems like a
drastic step.”
“Think of it this way, Dale. You’ll stop having to worry about not
having dates, and you can ditch those pads and the girdle. You dress like,
live like, and act like a woman. Would looking a little more like one really
hurt?”
“Jenni, if I agree to do this, please don’t tease me. Don’t act like I’m
enjoying this.”
“Dale, I swear to God I wouldn’t do that. I know things are rough
for you and I’m not liking it either.”
“Thanks Jenni. OK, I’ll take the hormones.”
Jenni immediately placed a call to a distributor in Germany. The pills
were Fed-exxed to me within the week.


Chapter Seven:[/B]
Soon it was winter. I had been on the estrogen pills for four months
now and could already tell a difference. For starters, my sex-drive was now
all but non-existent. I no longer brooded about not being able to get a date. Even when I was in the women’s locker room I never even looked at the naked women around me (well, maybe once or twice).
Of course, not all the changes were mental. My penis seemed smaller
and I could no longer make it hard. Thanks to the hormones, I bought a much looser sex hiding device. There wasn’t as much to hide, now.
My skin seemed much softer. It was like it wasn’t my own any
more, it seemed too delicate. My hair also felt a little silkier. My muscle tone
decreased. Feats of strength that I had taken for granted in the past now were
difficult, if not impossible. I sometimes had to ask John to help me move
things that I had easily lifted months ago.
The fat on my body began to redistribute itself. Instead of excess flab
congregating in my belly, it began to gather in my chest and hips. I no longer
needed to stick the Maxis in my panties; my rear and hips were now large
enough not to require them. I also ditched the girdle. While I still didn’t
have an hourglass figure, I felt I was shapely enough on my own to do without that uncomfortable thing.
My chest was also swelling. I didn’t have anything close to a
woman’s chest, but I was ‘blossoming.’ There were definite mounds under
my nipples that had not been there before. I wondered how big they would
be by the summer. My nipples were a much darker shade of brown than
before and they seemed to cover a larger area. They were also a lot more
sensitive. While caressing my penis no longer produced the sexual stimulation it once had, playing with my nipples turned me on a little.
I really didn’t care for all these changes, but they were tolerable.
Getting rid of the padding was nice and the lowered sex drive certainly made
me a lot calmer. Besides, all these effects were only temporary. School
ended in June, I could survive another half year like this.
In retrospect, I think my plans to change back into a guy over the
summer would have gone perfectly, had it not been for the great tuberculosis
outbreak.
They still talk about it on campus. That winter, the state was hit by
the worst TB outbreak of this century. Half the campus was sick. For the
first time in the university’s 150 year history all classes were cancelled. Play
practice was suspended indefinitely. The campus dining halls shut down. Everywhere you looked you’d see miserable students shuffling around, coughing.
While John and I managed to avoid the illness, Jenni and Leroy both
got it bad and were bedridden for a week. I played nursemaid to both of
them, bringing them chicken soup and taking care of them. I knew taking
such an interest in Leroy would make it appear that we were more than just
friends, but I had no choice. His parents lived out of the state and he was in
no position to take care of himself.
Then, just when it looked like everyone was going to recover, I got
some bad news. It seemed that the campus health service feared another
possible outbreak of TB, this one worse than before. In order to prevent
this, every student, faculty, and staff member had to go to the campus
hospital for a complete physical. A clean bill of health would be required to
register for the next semester.
I was scared. I didn’t want to go to my appointment; a doctor might
see through my disguise. I voiced my concerns to Jenni, who told me not to
worry. “They’ve had to see so many patients this week that they won’t
spend any more time with you than necessary. Just tell them you feel great
and they probably won’t do anything more than take your pulse.”
Nervous, but knowing that I really had no choice, I went to my
appointment. The sign on the office door I was directed to read “Dr. Alice
Auger, M.D.” I was eventually summoned inside.
The doctor told me to sit on the examination table. She was rather
young to be a doctor, she couldn’t have been older than thirty. She was
pretty in a no-nonsense type of way. When I entered she was leafing through
a manila folder. Finally she looked up.
“So Mr. Simmons, would you care to tell me why you’ve been pretending to be a woman this year?”
I felt dizzy. The nightmare had come true. I was found out, and by a
school authority at that. All she had to do was report me to the dean and I’d
be flipping burgers for the rest of my life. I tried to act surprised.
“Pretending? Whatever do you mean?”
Dr. Auger’s grey eyes turned cold. “Why I mean, young man, is that
you can falsify your college records, but your medical records are with you
for your entire life. Look here,” she said, indicating an old test result
“Simmons, Dale R. MALE.”
I tried to laugh it off. “You obviously have the test results of some
other Dale.”
The doctor handed me a photo out of my file. “Look familiar?” she
asked. I recognized the snapshot. It was a Polaroid my old doctor had taken
of me after the physical I needed to play high school basketball. He said he
took pictures of all his patients so that their records couldn’t be mistaken for
someone else’s. He was right, now I couldn’t say the file belonged to anyone but me. Thanks a lot, doc!
“I’ve been looking at your school records,” continued the doctor.
“you registered as a woman, and since you haven’t had any trouble going to
class, you must be dressing like this full time.” She snapped the file shut,
angrily. “Now should I have you kicked out of school now, or do you want
to try to explain this?”
I explained. It was like a dam bursting; once I started I couldn’t stop
myself. All the truth came out, about Jenni, Steve, the internet, Leroy, and
the hormones. I pulled a snapshot of Jenni out of my purse to prove she
wasn’t a fabrication. I ended by telling the doctor that she could call Jenni or
John if she wanted to confirm my story.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Dr. Auger the story. By the time I
was finished I had my head in my hands, crying. All my struggles this year,
everything I had worked for, all my desperate attempts not to get kicked out
of school had just blown up in my face. I just wanted to pack my things and
leave town. Start all over in another city.
I was shocked when I felt the gentle pressure of Dr. Auger’s hand on
my shoulder. “You poor thing,” I heard her say. I looked up at her. She
was no longer looking at me with anger, but with pity.
She turned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You’ll
have to forgive me Mr...uh, Ms...you’ll have to forgive me Dale. Thanks to
the health crisis, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in over a week. I
shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. I didn’t think you could have a
reasonable explanation for your deception, but you did.”
I let out a half laugh/half cry. “So you’re not going to report me?”
Dr. Auger looked strangely distant. “No, I’m not.”
I did laugh this time. “So everything’s OK?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
My spirits sank. “What’s wrong?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Well, for starters, I don’t like this mail-order hormone business.
I’m going to prescribe you some myself, you should be under a doctor’s
care. But that’s not our main problem.” Despite my worry, I noticed that she
said ‘our’ problem instead of ‘your’ problem.
“Our main problem,” she continued “is that in order for me to check
your lungs with a stethoscope, I’ll have to ask you to take off your shirt.
And then the fact that you are a man would be obvious, even if I hadn’t
looked at your file. If I don’t report this, then I’d be falsifying patient
records, which goes against my medical ethics.”
“I don’t suppose you’d bend the rules, this once?” I asked, hopefully.
“Bending the rules isn’t the issue, Dale. If you were ever to be found
out, then people would know that I had helped you deceive the school.
Either that or they’d think that I did such a shoddy examination that I didn’t
even know your true sex. Either way I’d be fired, and probably loose my
medical licence.”
“But,” I protested meekly “I won’t get caught! I’m extra careful and I
only have to do this for one more semester.”
The doctor shook her head. “You can’t guarantee that. You could get
spotted in a rest room, or tear your shirt on something, or be in an accident
and get rushed to the hospital. I’m sorry, but I doubt if emergency room
doctors will be all understanding as I am.”
“But those are crazy situations. They probably wouldn’t happen!”
“Dale, I’ve busted my ass in medical school to become a doctor and
I’m still not even close to having my loans paid off. I can’t risk all that I’ve
worked for, my entire future, on ‘probably won’t.’”
I was glad I was in a hospital, I felt positively ill. I knew I couldn’t
ask her to risk her whole career for me. “So what do I do now?” I asked.
“Drop out?”
The doctor gave me her pitying smile again. “Well, there may be a
way out for both of us. I think I can trust you to keep what’s in your panties
a secret until June. Your lack of breasts, on the other hand, well...that’s
what scares me.”
“Would more hormones give me breasts?” I asked, not sure that I really wanted my own set, for whatever reason.
“No, not in the time frame we’re looking at. What I had in mind was
implants. I have a colleague who has developed a new type of breast
implant. Nothing revolutionary, they’re just a little more durable than what’s
available now. In order for him to get them approved by the FDA he has to
allow a group of volunteers to use them for eight months. You know, to
make sure there are no side-effects. I’m sure there won’t be, but rules are
rules. I’d like to sign you up for this study. If you have breast implants then
I’m willing to not say anything about your true sex. You won’t be charged
anything for the surgery and you can have them removed in late August.”
I was flabbergasted at her suggestion. “Implants? Are you nuts? I
don’t want breasts! I didn’t ask for any of this, it was all forced on me. I
couldn’t have them removed in August anyway. I’m going to use the summer to transition from a female life to a male one.”
“Dale, the FDA requires eight months. Their rules are very strict. So
are mine: implants or drop out.”
“You know I can’t do either!”
“One or the other.”
Christmas break was nearly over. Jenni and I had no real desire to
spend the holidays with our mother. Instead, we had just had a quiet celebration in my apartment.
Christmas break was also the time I had scheduled the surgery for.
As I figured it, there was no other way out. Eight months with breasts or
drop out of school.
The day after classes let out for the break I checked into the hospital.
Dr. Auger (who had since insisted that I call her Alice) had made all the
arrangements. She helped me to my room, explained to me exactly what the
process would entail, and was even there when the anesthesia took effect.
“Don’t worry,” I remembered her saying as I went under.
“Everything is going to be all right. And when you wake up you’ll have a
lovely pair of breasts.”
What I woke up with was a dull ache in my chest. My upper torso
was totally swathed in bandages, I couldn’t tell what the results of the
surgery looked like. I felt heavier up top; it was like they had bandaged over
my falsies.
That was almost a month ago. It was now early January and classes
started tomorrow. It was time for the bandages to come off. True, the
dressings had been changed weekly at the hospital since the surgery, but I
had always closed my eyes while my chest was scrubbed and rebandaged. I
knew my new breasts would look pretty torn up after the operation and I didn’t want to see them until they were as healed as possible.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror that Jenni had bought me for
Christmas. I was in my room with the door locked. I was wearing only my
sex-hiding underwear and the bandages on my chest. Even practically naked,
I felt that I looked damn girlish. The hormones had certainly done their job, I
now looked more like a woman than I ever had. I was worried about the next
school year: if I had to stay like this all summer then there wouldn’t be much
time for me to ‘change back’ before classes.
I picked up the pair of hospital scissors that I would use to clip the
wrappings. I hesitated. I put them down and picked them up again. Finally,
I closed my eyes and cut. I felt the bandages fall away and opened my eyes.
There they were. The objects I had fantasized about since I was
eleven or twelve. Breasts. Boobs. Hooters. Tits. Still slightly bruised,
they hung from my chest down to the bottom of my rib cage. My enlarged
nipples were no longer under my shirt pocket, but a couple of inches lower.
The cold air caused them to harden. They certainly looked more in place
now!
I swayed a bit to the left. So did my new appendages. I felt the right
one rub against the left one. That was another odd sensation: sensitivity in
places that didn’t even exist before. I leaned ahead. My breasts swung
forward like two fatty pendulums. I could almost touch them with my face.
I lay down flat on my back. They flattened out, gently sliding down upon
my chest.
I still hadn’t had the nerve to touch them. They seemed so unreal!
Finally, I reached up my hand and ran it down the left one. Soft, not unlike a
water balloon. I ran my finger through the cleavage (I had cleavage now!).
The valley was warm and yielding. I touched the nipple. Hard, and much
more sensitive. I held breast in my hand. It was heavier than I had thought it
would be. It was a strange and stimulating sensation. Just last year I had
been thrilled by my one and only contact with human breasts. Now I had an
even bigger pair growing on my own body!
I sat down on my bed and stared at them for a good fifteen minutes.
Then I looked in the mirror and studied my body. A stranger now stared
back at me. Who was this woman in the glass? Were was that college man
who had so confidently moved in here a few months ago? Where was the
masculine figure, the manly face? Wherever it was, it sure wasn’t in the
glass. What was between my legs was all that was left of my past.
I felt dizzy and sat down again. This wasn’t right! How could
helping my sister have gone so far? Whose fault was it? Before, I could
have just chucked the female side of me whenever I felt I couldn’t take it
anymore. Now I was stuck as a woman until I could arrange for the corrective surgery.
Could I live for eight months like this? Could I go back to being a
man afterwards? Would I ever be able to forget this side of me? I didn’t
know, only time would tell.
I spent a good three hours ‘getting to know’ my new chest. That may
seem like a long time, but keep in mind I had developed my breasts in one
day. With real women the process takes years. Finally, I decided to get
dressed.
First, I tossed the mastectomy bra in my bottom drawer. Another
piece of padding gone. All that was left was the rubber thing that kept my
penis hidden. When I got right down to it, I could even go out without that if
my clothes were loose enough. My penis was now small enough that it really
didn’t show. I had even taken to peeing sitting down. In public restrooms I
sat so no one would be surprised by an upright pair of legs under the stall
door. Now it was second nature.
When I thought about it, the only thing (besides my penis, or course)
that distinguished me from an actual woman was my failure to menstruate.
To myself, to John, to Jenni, I was a man. To the world at large, I was a
woman.
I pulled on a bra that I had stolen from Jenni. It was too small. I
pulled on one of the ones I had recently purchased at the department store.
That one was a little big, but adequate. I figured I was about a ‘C’ cup. The
bra supported me in a way that was reassuring. It was nice to be able to walk
without the darn things bouncing around, and a lot less uncomfortable.
I pulled on some jeans, and then a front-buttoning blouse. It no
longer fit; my real breasts were bigger than the fake ones had been. I pulled
on another shirt. It fit, but tightly. I unbuttoned the first few buttons and let
the cleft of my breasts show. Erotic, I looked like the naughty secretary on
some porno video. Finally, I put on a sweater. Even through that I could tell
how huge they were. They also looked more realistic than the fakes. They
moved and jiggled more like the real things.
I made up my face. Then, with some stage makeup I had got at the
drama department, I covered up the surgical bruises the best I could. When I
was finished I called Jenni and asked her if she wanted to have dinner. She
said she’d be right over.
I had decided not to tell her about the surgery. Up until the last
minute I had been afraid that I would wuss out. I figured if she knew she’d
force me to go through with it. Now I figured there’d be no point in hiding
them.
When Jenni came over, I lured her into my room on a pretext. I then
asked her what she thought of the sweater I was wearing.
“To tell you the truth Dale, I don’t care for it. It doesn’t match your
complexion. You know, there’s something different about you. Did you do
something new with your hair?”
I smiled, the picture of innocence. “Nothing new I can think of. Let
me just change real quick.” I pulled off my sweater.
Jenni’s scream was so loud that it brought John pounding on my locked door, asking if we were OK. “We’re fine,” I hollered back.
It took Jenni a few seconds to be able to say anything. “Dale...how?”
she stammered.
I explained everything to her. She just sat there, staring at my chest
like a drunk frat boy, her eyes as big as saucers.
“So, what do you think?” I ventured.
Jenni shook her head, as if to clear it. “Dale,” she began. “I don’t
want you to take this the wrong way. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, I
just think you need to know the truth.”
I was a little shocked by this. I had figured she would have complimented me on rising to the occasion and doing what I had to do.
“Dale,” she went on, “you look absolutely adorable! They’re beautiful! Please don’t be hurt, but you’re a doll.”
“Well, better to have them look good than to look bad, I suppose.”
At least Jenni liked them, for a second I was afraid she was going to say I
had made a big mistake. Two big mistakes, I guess.
“Why didn’t you tell me, you silly person? Why the surprise?”
“Like they say at the drama school, ‘the entrance is everything.’ You
were pretty taken aback, right?”
“To say the least! We have to go clothes shopping! You’ll need lots
of new tops, especially for warm weather. Why, you could even wear a bikini top now!”
“Calm down Jenni. Eight months, no more. I’ll buy whatever I need
to, but no point in throwing money away.”
Jenni looked a little sad. “I know, but you do make a great woman.
Don’t be offended, it’s true. I don’t suppose you’d like to try it for two
years? Not many guys get to experience life from a woman’s point of view.”
“Not many guys want to. Sorry. Come August, off they come.”
Jenni nodded, wistfully. “Well, enjoy them while you can then.” A
thought seemed to hit her. “Hey, does John know?”
“No,” I replied. “He just got back from his parents’ place today.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go give him a shock!”
I pulled on a blouse and unbuttoned it almost to my navel. We found
John in the kitchen, reading the Sunday comics. Though it was seven at
night he was wearing his bathrobe and sipping coffee like he had just gotten
up.
“Hi big boy,” I said, it my most sultry voice.
He glanced up, then went back to his funnies. “Hey Dale. Hi Jenni.
Boy, I would not want to be in Beetle Bailey’s shoes right now!”
Jenni and I walked back to the living room. A few seconds later we
heard a crash as John half jumped, half fell out of his chair. He rushed into
the living room and stared at me, as if to confirm what he thought he had
seen. His face asked the question that his mouth couldn’t.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I replied coyly. I buttoned my blouse
and left for dinner with Jenni, leaving behind a very confused John.


Chapter Eight:
It was now early February and I was not in a good mood. Play
practice was going slowly. We were afraid that we wouldn’t be ready for the
big performance that was coming up. My classes were hard and I didn’t have
much time to enjoy myself. To make matters worse, I hadn’t had a good
night sleep in over a month. All my life I had slept on my stomach. Now,
thanks to my breast implants, I could no longer sleep like that. It was just too
uncomfortable. I slept on my back, which I was not used to and did not enjoy.
I was in an especially bad mood when I came home from theater
practice that night. I had blown several important lines and embarrassed
myself in front of the whole crew. On top of that, I realized that I had
forgotten my purse in the dressing room. I had to walk all the way back to
the auditorium to retrieve it.
When I got to the auditorium, I realized that some sort of performance
was happing there that night. I looked at the poster in the lobby:
“Brian the Great and his lovely assistant, Rhea, performing amazing
illusions, death-defying escapes, and miraculous feats of magic, tonight only!
Admission, $10.”
I had always enjoyed stage magic, so I decided to catch a bit of the act
before I went to get my bag. I was friends with the security guard so he let
me in for free. I took a seat near the front.
The magician, Brian, was a tall guy, not bad looking, with a
somewhat crazed expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if that was his natural
look or if he was just hamming it up for the audience. He reminded me a bit
of John.
His assistant, Rhea, was very pretty. She was quite thin, with long
red hair, well formed breasts, and lots of freckles. She was wearing a very
skimpy bikini. It had no shoulder straps and her chest constantly seemed on
the verge of busting (pardon the pun) out of her top.
“What a tease,” I thought “She’s just showing off her figure. What’s
the point of wearing a costume that tiny?” Then it hit me. Here I was,
looking at a gorgeous woman in a skimpy swimsuit and all I could think of
was her need for modesty. I rubbed my temples. I had been acting like a
woman for too long.
Brian strapped Rhea into a large, frontless box, with her arms tied
perpendicularly from her body. She looked absurdly like a sexy crucifixion
victim. Brian then slid two large metal sheets into the box; one right below
her shoulders, the other right above her hips. It seemed like he had divided
her into thirds. He then grabbed the middle of the box and pulled. Rhea’s
midsection, containing her breasts and belly seemed to slide away from the
rest of her body. It was as if her torso was several feet to the right where her
head, arms and legs were. That explained the lack of straps on her bikini: the
metal sheets would have sliced through the straps, ostensibly severing the
bikini and baring her chest.
Brian leaned over and kissed Rhea on the lips. I borrowed a program
from the guy next to me and read a little bit about the magical duo. It was just
as I has suspected, they were a husband and wife team. Their act was quite
good, but I didn’t really feel like hanging around for it. I ducked backstage
to the dressing rooms before Rhea had been reassembled.
I stole into the room where I had changed for rehearsal. As I picked
up my purse, I noticed some things in the room that hadn’t been there before:
a suitcase, a couple of swords, and a chainsaw. Of course, Brian and Rhea
must have been using this dressing room. I decided I had better leave before
they caught me trespassing in what was supposed to be their private changing
room. I figured members of a magic act wouldn’t take kindly to someone snooping around their props.
Just then there was thunderous applause from the audience, followed
by some footsteps coming very near the door. Damn! Cutting Rhea up must
have been their grand finale. The door started to swing open. I quickly
ducked into the closet.
I didn’t shut the door all the way so that I could look out and see
when the coast was clear. Much to my horror, Brian quickly locked the door
and grabbed Rhea around her now intact waist and kissed her.
“You were incredible tonight,” she told him when their lips parted.
“I owe it all to you honey,” he replied. “But if you want to see incredible...”
Much to my horror, he began undoing her bikini top. No, not here,
not now! I could be stuck in this closest all night! All I had wanted to do
was grab my purse, not spy on a married couple making love. I knew that I
was stuck and couldn’t get home until after I was sure they were gone.
Rhea began unbuttoning Brian’s shirt. “You men,” she said jokingly,
“always one thing on your minds.”
I had ducked back into the corner of the closest when Brian said something that made me do a double take. “Hey Rhea, don’t bad mouth men. Up until a couple of years ago, you were one!”
Had I heard him right? Did he just say that Rhea, his lovely assistant
and wife, used to be a man?
Rhea helped Brian off with his shirt. “Well, if I hadn’t fallen for you
I’d probably still be a man. But to tell you the truth, I still only have one
thing on my mind...” She rubbed against him in such a way that left little
doubt as to what that ‘one thing’ was.
I couldn’t believe it! Rhea used to be a man! I wondered how the
change had come about. I never would have pegged Rhea for a transsexual.
It was mind boggling. I thought about trying to find her later and asking her
what had happened, but thought the better of it. Her past was her business
and I had no right to intrude. I would just hide until they left and try to forget
what I had heard.
Unfortunately, I was rather clumsy that night and managed to knock
over a stack of boxes while making myself comfortable. I heard Rhea gasp
in horror. Seconds later, Brian yanked open the closet door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled.
“I was just getting my purse,” I tried to explain.
Rhea began to cry. “My God, she knows, she knows,” she sobbed.
I felt terrible. I wanted to tell her that they had nothing to worry about, but
Brian interrupted me.
“Listen, whoever you are,” he said while pulling on his shirt, “you
heard something you had no right to hear. I’ll give you $300 to keep your
mouth shut. It’s no one’s business but our own.”
I tried to tell him I wasn’t out for a bribe, but “No...” was a far as I
got.
“Not good enough for you?” said Brian, desperately. “OK, $500.”
“No, you don’t understand....”
“OK, one thousand bucks, just to keep your mouth shut. One grand not to ruin our lives. Deal?”
I tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to blackmail them. “Please, I
don’t want that.”
Brian yanked out a checkbook and appeared to check the balance. “$1,305 and 55 cents!” he shouted, on the verge of panic. Rhea sobbed harder.
I couldn’t take it any more. Even if I promised to keep my mouth
shut for free, they’d always live in fear that I’d blab. I figured that they had
gone to considerable lengths to cover up Rhea’s past and I had no right to
destroy their domestic tranquility. I had only one option.
“Please listen to me,” I told them, praying I wasn’t making a mistake.
“I’m not going to tell. You see...I’m a man.”
“What?” said Brian, taken aback. He looked me over critically.
“Don’t give me that crap.”
“It’s not crap,” I replied. “I never would have guessed that your wife
wasn’t born a woman. You shouldn’t find it hard to believe that I’m a guy.”
Rhea had stopped crying. “You really are a guy?” she asked, her
voice hoarse from crying. “Wow! I honestly can’t tell. And here I thought I
was an expert on transsexuals!”
“Oh, I’m not a transsexual.”
“Really?” asked Rhea, pulling on a robe. “They why do you look so
much like a girl? If I’m not mistaken, those are real breasts.”
I looked down, embarrassed. “I wish I could tell you, but I doubt
you’d understand.”
Rhea took my hand in hers. I looked up at her. She certainly was
pretty, but close up she didn’t resemble the sexpot she had been on stage.
She seemed more like the girl next door. The small town high school prom
queen. She smiled at me and asked me my name.
“It’s Dale,” I replied shyly.
“That’s a nice name. Listen Dale, you’d be surprised at how well I
could understand what you’re going through. It might shock you to learn
that when I first started dressing like a woman I had no desire to become one.
Would you like to hear my story?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind telling me.”
“Do you promise that whatever I tell you doesn’t leave this room?
Brian wasn’t exaggerating, if my secret got out our lives would be ruined.”
“I promise. Hell, if my secret ever got out, my life would be ruined.”
Rhea looked questioningly at Brian, who nodded. She then began her narrative.
“Three years ago I was a guy named Ray who lived in a stink hole of
a town called Dead Springs, Nevada. Brian was a magican at a hotel there, I
was a stage hand. Things were going great for Brian, he had just signed on
to perform at a large hotel in Las Vegas. Unfortunately for him his assistant,
Tracy, had just gotten engaged and wanted to leave the act to raise a family.
That stuck Brian without an assistant, and without an assistant he was out of
an act. In desperation he asked me to dress in drag and be his lovely assistant
for the year. I was so broke and desperate to escape the poverty level that I
agreed.”
Brian placed his hands lovingly on Rhea’s shoulders. “As you can
see,” he said “things didn’t go quite as planned. I couldn’t resist this lovely
young woman.”
“And after dressing as Rhea for a year, I couldn’t resist this
handsome young man.” Rhea reached up and kissed Brian (author’s note: if
you would like to read Rhea and Brian’s whole story, check out ‘Presto Chango’ by this author).
“So now you know our story,” continued Rhea. “Now would you tell us yours? You know that we wouldn’t tell.”
I explained everything. As I was telling them how I had turned from
a college guy into a man with soft skin and breasts, I began to think. I had
never meant to let this many people in on my secret. Jenni was supposed to
be the only one who knew. John found out because he lived with me. I had
told Dr. Alice because I had no choice. Now here I was telling two complete
strangers my history. I would have to be more careful, I couldn’t afford to
let anyone else in on my secret.
When I had finished, Rhea turned to Brian and asked for a moment alone with me. Brian kissed her again and left. Rhea turned to me.
“Dale,” she began “I know I don’t know you that well, but I think I
understand your situation enough to offer you some advice. Please, please
be careful. You are playing a dangerous game. I don’t just mean that you
could get caught. I mean that you might find it’s not as easy to go back to
manhood as you think. At one time I was sure that I would go back to being
Ray the first chance I got, now look at me.”
I was confused. “What exactly are you saying?” I asked.
“What I’m saying is that the longer you dress like a woman, the
harder it will be for you to come back. You may find you don’t even want
to.”
I snorted. “Please. Maybe you like being a woman, but I don’t.
Come August I’m leaving this life behind!”
Rhea smiled at me. “I hope you’re right. But remember one thing.
If you should decide that you do want to stay this way, then don’t fight it.
You might regret it. I...I once told Brian that I wasn’t interested in him, that
I wanted to go back to being a man. That was the biggest mistake I ever
made and I almost lost him. Fortunately I ended up following my true
feelings and having a sex change.” Rhea’s voice was unsteady, the memory
breaking up with Brian was obviously a painful one.
“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy Rhea, but I think you’re wasting
your time telling me this. I’m not going to fall in love with a guy.”
“That’s exactly what I said when I first started dressing like this. It
can sneak up on you, so watch yourself. Be especially careful of that Leroy
guy you told us about. Sounds like a girl could fall for him if she’s not
careful.”
I rolled my eyes.
Rhea handed me a business card. “Well, no matter what happens,
please keep in touch. If you ever need advice about anything, just call me.”
We hugged. Despite her crazy history and even crazier advice, I liked
her, she was a good person who meant well. She stood up. “Now if you
excuse me, I need to go find my husband. There’s a hot tub back at the hotel
with our names on it.”
I took the hint and left. All the way home I thought about what she
said, and dismissed it at nonsense. Me fall for a guy? Me decide to stay a
woman? Please.


Chapter Nine:
While the audience thunderously applauded, I linked hands with the
rest of the cast and took a bow. It was a glorious feeling that I had never had
before. To have a hundred plus people applauding, laughing at, and enjoying
our performance. To be in the center stage, the lime light! All our hard work
had paid off. ‘Midsummer’ was a smash hit. We had performed to three
sold out houses. After the second night we received word from the
administration that, due to our fine performance (not to mention all the money
we brought in), the drama school would be around for at least another year.
Every performance had gone flawlessly. No one missed a cue or
botched a line. This was my first acting experience but I thought I had done
pretty well. Even though this was closing night, when actors are usually
tired and not up to par, we were still sensational. I would certainly miss all
this when I went back to being a man next year. Maybe I could try my hand
at being an actor some day.
The audience kept applauding, so we bowed again. I discreetly
placed my hand over my chest as we did so. All female cast members (and
myself) were wearing frilly period dresses. That meant the neckline was
quite low and much cleavage was visible. While I had suffered through this
costuming without complaining, I didn’t want to give the audience a full ‘tittie
shot’ when I bowed.
Then it happened. The man who played Oberon turned and kissed his
love interest, Titania. The audience went nuts, they loved it. Next, the man
who played Theseus kissed his love interest, Hippolyta. There was more cheering from the crowd.
Up till then I didn’t think anything was strange. The guy playing
Oberon was married to the woman playing Titania in real life. Theseus and
Hippolyta were dating. But then something strange happened. The man
playing Lysander kissed his love interest, Hermia. I was shocked. They
certainly weren’t romantically involved. In fact in real life they didn’t seem to
really like each other, even as friends. Still, Lysander continued to kiss her
and she didn’t seem offended at all.
There was only one more couple in the play, Helena (me) and
Demetrius (Leroy). Well, three out of four couples wouldn’t be bad. Surely
Leroy would know better than to...
My thoughts were interrupted when Leroy gingerly placed his hands on my cheeks and kissed me. I was too shocked to offer any resistance.
When Steve had forced a kiss on me it had been a gross and
disgusting experience. His jabbing tongue, his slobbering lips, his groping
fingers all coupled with the knowledge that he wanted to sleep with me...I
still cringed when I thought of it.
Leroy’s kiss, though unwelcome, was different. His hands didn’t
feel me up, they tenderly touched the sides of my face. His tongue wasn’t
eager and probing, he kept it in his mouth. His lips weren’t rough and
violent, they were soft and kind. With Steve, kissing had been a means to an
end, with Leroy it had been an end in itself.
Leroy pressed our lips together and held me for what felt like thirty
seconds, but was probably more like three. Then he let go.
I managed to bow one more time and then exit with the rest of the
cast: women to stage left, men to stage right. As we made our way to the
women’s dressing room, my blood began to boil. The nerve of Leroy! Just
using the play as an excuse to kiss me! What a jerk, all that talk about being
friends obviously meant nothing to him. He saw me as nothing more than a
sex object!
My mind burned with revenge. I wanted to burst right into the men’s
dressing room and call him every name in the book. I wanted to humiliate
him in front of the entire cast, to make him so embarrassed that he’d never act
again. No, I’d wait until the cast party when I knew that everyone associated
with the play would be there. God, getting back at Leroy would be sweet!
It took a fellow cast member to bring me back to earth. I was sitting
at the makeup table removing all the grease paint and powder. Next to me sat
Lisa, the girl who had played Hermia. She was the other girl who had been
unexpectedly kissed by her partner. Maybe she’d want to join me in
humiliating the men (I thought that without stopping to think that I was a
man). I turned to her.
“Can you believe those guys kissed us like that? The nerve!” I expected her reply to be equally as vitriolic, but she merely shrugged.
“Aw, boys will be boys. Besides, I think it ended the play nicely,
what with all four couples kissing and all. Remember, ‘Midsummer’ is a romance.”
That brought me back to reality. Of course. Leroy wasn’t kissing me
for the sake of kissing me. He just wanted to end play on a happy note. It
would have looked odd if we were the only couple who didn’t kiss at the
end. I couldn’t believe how vain I had been to think that he had only wanted
to kiss me for selfish reasons. Thank God I had talked to Lisa before I had
made a big ass of myself in public.
When I came out of the dressing room, Leroy was walking by,
carrying a box of props (that’s one problem with amateur theater, the actors
have to help break the stage when the play’s over). “Hey Helena, er Dale,”
he said as he hurried by. “I hope I wasn’t out of line back there.”
“Don’t worry,” I said “I know you only kissed me for the sake of the
play.”
Leroy had his back to me as he left the hallway. There was a mirror
leaning against the wall and I could see the reflection of his face. I saw his
lips move. He had said something, but only to himself. After months of
watching the prompter whisper me lines, it wasn’t hard for me to read
Leroy’s lips. After I had told Leroy that I knew he had only kissed me for
dramatic purposes, he had mumbled ‘maybe.’
The next week I was enjoying having more spare time than I had had
in a long time. Now that the play was over, I suddenly had several more
nights free a week. On one such night Leroy invited me to shoot some pool
with him at a local bar.
After Leroy had won three games we sat down to have a drink. Leroy ducked into the john. I pulled out a compact and touched up my makeup a bit. Suddenly, I heard a brash, drunken voice from behind me. “Hey honey, can I buy you a drink?”
I turned to see two huge guys standing behind me. They were both
muscle-bound simians. I was annoyed to see that one of them was Chris, the
frat guy who had been so rude to Jenni the first night I went out as a woman.
“No thanks,” I muttered, and turned back to the bar. They weren’t to
be denied that easily. Both of them sat down next to me, one on each side.
“C’mon honey, said Chris. “Ben and me are lonely and just wanna talk to
you.” Beer fumes hit me in the face. He tried to hold my hand but I wouldn’t let him.
“Go away!” I fairly shouted at them.
“One drink, that’s all,” leered Ben.
“Leave her alone.” I had never been so glad to hear Leroy’s voice.
We all turned to see him standing there with a slight grin on his face. “She’s
with me,” he said, almost proudly. I let it slide. If the idiots thought I was
dating him, then they’d buzz off. Or so I though.
“Hey shrimp,” said Chris to Leroy, “we’re just trying to talk to the
lady, Why don’t ya go back to the nursery school?”
Leroy seemed livid, I was just mad. The nerve of those assholes! If,
for the sake of argument, I actually was actually dating Leroy, why the hell
would I be more interested in them? Leroy I could at least have a conversation with.
“I said she was with me,” repeated Leroy. “Now get lost.” I nodded
in agreement.
I was horrified to see Chris and his friend stand up and get right in
Leroy’s face. “You wanna start some trouble?” Chris asked, deadly serious.
I knew things had gone far enough. Both guys were bigger than
Leroy and I certainly didn’t want him to get hurt. If they ganged up on him
he wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Let’s get out of here,” I told Leroy.
“But...” he protested.
“We’re leaving, now,” I told him in a voice that wasn’t to be argued
with.
As we walked to the door, the two big guys shouted insult after insult
at Leroy. “Hey shrimp, when your girl wants a real man send her our way!
Hey, I think he’s crying! Look at the crybaby!” They shouted so that the
whole bar could hear. Leroy wasn’t crying, he was pissed. At every insult
he would stiffen. I kept gently pushing his shoulders so that he wouldn’t be
tempted to go back and do something stupid.
We were at the door, he literality had one foot outside, when Chris’
friend Ben said something that made Leroy stop. It wasn’t an insult to him
though, it was an insult to me.
“Hey shrimp, your girl’s a slut!”
Leroy turned around and walked slowly back to the bar. Much as I
tried to hold on to him, he wouldn’t be stopped. He faced the two frat guys.
“What did you say?” he asked. His voice was shaking from what might have been anger or might have been fear.
“I said,” the guy replied, emphasizing every word, “that your girl’s a
slut. A tramp. A bitch. A WHORE!”
“You take that back!”
“You gonna make me, shrimp?”
Leroy punched Ben in the face. He staggered back against the bar,
his nose a bloody mess. Unfortunately, that was the only punch Leroy landed that night.
Both guys jumped him and began beating the crap out of him. Chris
held him in a full Nelson while his buddy rhythmically landed blows to Leroy’s stomach and face.
I began to scream and cry. “No, stop it! Can’t you see you’re hurting him?”
“Shaddap,” sneered Chris. “After we get done with your boyfriend we’re gonna show you what real men are like!”
“Someone help!” I shouted, but the few patrons quickly looked away.
No one would get involved.
Leroy collapsed on the ground, to weak to rise. Blood oozed from
his nose and mouth, I wasn’t sure he was even conscious. He glasses had
been knocked off his face, Chris ground them under his heel. Then, much to
my horror, he pulled back his foot to kick Leroy in the face.
“No!” I screamed. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a familiar voice called. I
looked away from the fight. There, at the door, stood John. He was
clutching a half empty bottle of tequila and smiling. Next to him stood
‘Smeg,’ the keyboard player for John’s band. Smeg had a shaved head, a Kaiser mustache, and was the same size and shape as an industrial refrigerator. He wore a permanent frown.
“What do we have here?” repeated John.
“Well,” replied Smeg, slowly, “it looks like two big guys beating the
snot out of a smaller guy. Say John, isn’t the smaller guy a pal of yours?”
John’s smile widened. “He certainly is. Now the question remains,
my dear Smeg, what are we going to do about this situation?”
John and Smeg advanced towards the two Neanderthals. They
quickly backed away. Smeg was huge, and John, while not gigantic, seemed
to enjoy the thought of a bar brawl. “Hey, we don’t want any trouble,” said
Chris, meekly, and Ben nodded in agreement. That showed their true colors. They would gang up on someone smaller, but wouldn’t dare fight someone who stood a chance of winning.
“That’s too bad,” said John “because trouble’s found you.” John
noticed that Leroy had managed to stagger to his feet. John slapped Leroy’s
hand like they were tag-team wrestlers and John was now taking over.
“Dale, why don’t you take Leroy home and get him cleaned up? We’ll finish
things here.”
I put my arm around him and half carried him to the door. Before we
were in the parking lot I could hear blows landing.
I drove Leroy to my house. He was half conscious, occasionally holding his stomach and groaning.
I was utterly ashamed of myself. While my friend was getting beaten
up, all I had done was stand there and scream and cry. I hadn’t jumped in to
help, I hadn’t tried to pull them off, I had just stood there. It had been so
cowardly, so pathetic, so....womanly.
I had done exactly what a woman would have done. I couldn’t hope
to beat the guys up now that the hormones had ridded me of my muscles. All
I could do was stand there feebly and hope that someone else would save him. Thank God someone had.
I helped Leroy inside and removed his shirt. I tenderly pressed on
various places on his torso and ask them if they hurt. “Yes,” he answered
sleepily, every time. Still, nothing seemed to be broken. I laid him down on
the couch and, with a wet washcloth, began mopping the blood off his face
and body. I then made an ice pack and held it to his head. This seemed to
bring him fully around.
“Dale, “ he said thickly through his swollen lip, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”
“Those jerks were insulting you and I couldn’t stop them. I had to let
John do it for me. I’m sorry.”
I looked at him angrily. “Leroy, what in the hell are you talking
about? There were two of them and one of you. I wanted you to leave but
you went back. What does it matter if someone insults me? I could care less
what some drunk says about me.”
Leroy sat up, wincing with pain. “I care,” he said intently. “I can’t
stand to have anyone say anything bad about you!”
“Why, Leroy?”
Leroy put his face right in front of mine. “Because I love you Dale.
I know you said you just wanted to be friends, but I can’t do it. I tried to
deny what I feel, but I can’t. You’re the only woman I think about any more.
I know other girls, pretty girls, who’d go out with me, but I never even
asked them.” Leroy took my stunned face in his hands. “I’d do anything for
you. I’d get beat up by every guy on campus to protect you. All I want is to
make you happy.”
I was stunned. All this time I thought Leroy had been harboring a
tiny crush on me, but apparently his feeling were much more serious. What
could I say?
Leroy took advantage of my silence. He leaned over and kissed me.
And kissed me. It was a much more passionate kiss than before, but still
tender and gentle. He kissed and kissed and kissed me.
‘Stop,’ I wanted to scream as I closed my eyes. ‘This isn’t right,’ I
meant to say as he wrapped his arms around me. ‘No, I’m actually a man,
don’t kiss me,’ I should have told him as I opened my mouth to receive his
sensual tongue.
I placed my arms on his bare back and just let him hold and kiss me.
On my mouth, my cheeks, my ears, my neck. Why wasn’t I stopping him?
Was I feeling guilty that he had been beat up to protect my honor? Yes, but
not so guilty that I felt I had to let him touch me. It was something else. It
was as if I had been resisting him because I felt I had to, not because I
wanted to. Jenni had said hormones couldn’t change your sexual persuasion.
But could living as a woman make me see Leroy differently? Could I have
gone from thinking of him as a friend to thinking of him as something else
without realizing it?
I thought about these things while we kissed. It was different than
kissing a girl. He was the aggressive one, I was the shy one. Finally, Leroy
did the inevitable. He reached down to unbutton my shirt.
“No Leroy, not yet.” Even as I said this I regretted it. ‘Not yet,’
mean that someday I would be ready. “Leroy, I need to think. Can I drive
you home?”
“No, if you drive me home in my car, how will you get back? Trust
me, I feel fine enough to drive. Hell, I’m on the top of the world!” He
looked a lot better than he had a few minutes ago, that was for sure. He
pulled on his shirt with a big smile, kissed me again, and left.
I sat up all night thinking, trying to make sense of my situation. I
couldn’t.
John came home a couple hours later, sporting a torn t-shirt as his
only ‘injury.’ He seemed almost as happy as Leroy had been when he left..
“Tell Leroy next time he tangles with someone, make sure they’re not college
boxers. Those guys just wouldn’t stay down!” He trotted off to bed, tossing
a handful of hard white things on the coffee table as he passed. I looked at
them, then quickly looked away. They were broken human teeth.
When morning came around I was no closer to figuring out my
problem. Why had I let Leroy kiss me? Now he’d think that we were dating
or something. But what could I do now? Make out with him and then say I
just wanted to be friends? He had told me that he loved me and I had kissed
him. He had allowed himself to be beat up, just to avenge my being insulted.
I couldn’t very well walk away from all that. I didn’t want to lose his
friendship.
Still, reality was reality and no good would ever come of me leading
him on. When it was a decent hour I would go to his house and explain that
our dating would only end up hurting him. I wouldn’t be lying either. The
Dale he knew would be gone by the end of the school year.
At around 8:00 am there was a knock at the door. It was Leroy, holding a dozen red roses, which he awkwardly handed to me. “For you,” he said unnecessarily.
Once again, I was stuck in an uncomfortable situation. How could I
dump a guy who had just probably spent over a hundred dollars on flowers
for me? I faced him. His face was still pretty black and blue from last night,
and he wasn’t wearing his customary glasses. But he had a confident air
about him, a self assurance that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was from
standing up to two bullies, or because he thought he had won the heart of his
dream girl. I knew that as soon as I dumped him that confidence would be
shattered.
“Leroy...”
“Yes?”
“Leroy, I think...”
“Yes honey?” Honey. He called me honey. He bought me flowers and called me honey and said he loved me.
“Leroy, I think they’re beautiful. The flowers, thank you.”
Leroy didn’t say anything. He kissed me. He kissed me and held me, and then took me out to breakfast.
So began the last two months of that school year. My emotions were
in a whirl. One minute I would be having a great time with Leroy, then I
would feel horribly guilty that I would be leaving him that summer. One
minute I would be passionately kissing him, then I would be ashamed at how
I was locking lips with a man. I cared about Leroy, but at the same time I
was revolted at the thought of what I was doing.
I kept telling myself that I would soon think of a way out of this
relationship, but I never did. I never really tried. The truth was, Leroy was a
kind, loving man. He treated me like a princess and I was always happy to
be around him. True, I didn’t enjoy our physical relationship, but I didn’t
hate it either. Sometimes I would close my eyes and pretend I was kissing
Christy Brinkly. Those fantasies didn’t last long, however. I would inevitably be thinking of Leroy before the kiss was over.
I noticed some changes in Leroy. He no longer seemed like a shy
young man, but a confident adult. He never replaced his glasses but was
fitted with contacts instead. He worked out three times a week. I think he
wanted to be sure he’d stand a chance if he was ever in a fight again. He
would put his arm around me in a proprietary fashion. Not like he owned
me, mind you, but like it was his job to look out for me and protect me. He
would refer to me as his girlfriend, something I never denied.
I kept thinking back to what Rhea, the magician’s assistant, had told
me. She said transforming back to being a man wouldn’t be easy, and that
falling of a guy would make it much harder. Well, I knew that I hadn’t fallen
for Leroy, but I did like him. I didn’t want to hurt him and I didn’t want him
out of my life. I hated thinking about what would happen in August, so I
simply avoided thinking about it. I foolishly hoped that it would sort itself
out.
Jenni seemed intrigued, and at the same time upset, by my
relationship with Leroy. She tried to ask me what was going on several
times, but I made it clear that I didn’t want to talk about it. What could I have
said? I didn’t understand it either. Jenni stopped bringing the subject up,
though she seemed anxious about Leroy and I.
John never batted an eye the first time he saw Leroy kiss me. I
wasn’t even sure if he remembered that I really was a guy. He had stopped
referring to me as ‘the dude he lived with’ and no longer lounged around the
house in his briefs. It was hard to figure out how John viewed reality, it was
quite possible he now believed I had always been a girl.
Spring break rolled around. Most of the drama club decided to spend
a week at the beach. Leroy and I went along. It was a wonderful time.
Every day we would all swim, play volleyball, and barbecue. At night we
would have a campfire and roast marshmallows. Leroy would hold me tight
under the beach blanket.
I took many romantic walks along the beach with Leroy. He held my
hand and kissed me under the moonlight. I had given up feeling guilty or
worried. As long as I was on vacation, I reasoned, I might as well enjoy
myself.
On the final night of our trip I sat on the sand with Leroy, his arm
around my shoulder. It was night and the beach was deserted. Leroy was
wearing nothing but his trunks. I was wearing my swimsuit: women’s
trunks (I still couldn’t hide my penis in a real bikini bottom) and a skimpy
bikini top. More of my breasts were uncovered than were covered.
Leroy was kissing me. He had been kissing me for the better part of
an hour. I had been swimming all day and was exhausted. I just let him hold
me. Soon I was laying in the beach and Leroy was next to me, on his side.
He kissed me. My long damp hair tangled with his. He kissed me. The
warmth of the beach, even at night, made me tired. He kissed me. I felt
warm, no, hot all over. He kissed me. I fell into a half sleep. I felt turned
on, erotic, sexy. Then I realized it.
Leroy’s hand was resting on my breast. My bare breast. He had
rolled down the top of my bikini without me realizing it. I had been too into
kissing him to realize it until after the fact. His fingers were gently caressing
my nipple. His hand gently cupped my breast. He kissed me.
I didn’t resist. He rolled on top of me. I wrapped my legs around
him. We kissed for a long time. He reached for my shorts.
“No Leroy, no further.”
Leroy nodded. I expected him to get up, but instead he locked his
arms around me tightly. It seems he took ‘no further’ slightly differently than
I had meant it. He apparently assumed that anything under my shorts was off
limits, but anything else was ‘fair game.’ He explored my breasts with his
fingers, hands, and mouth. He kissed me on the shoulders, on the stomach,
and between my shoulder blades. He held me and used my body to make
him feel good. ‘I can make him stop anytime I want,’ I thought. ‘All I have
to do is tell him to stop and he’ll let me go.’ Instead, I wriggled one of my
hands free and slid it down the front of his shorts.
By the time I got back to my hotel room I was plenty tired. I was
sharing a room with Lisa. She gave me a sly look when I came in, it was
obvious what she thought we had been doing. Truth be known, she wasn’t
that far off. It was almost time to drive back home. I went into the bathroom
and changed. As I was doing so, I looked in the mirror. Tangled, sandy
hair, twisted bikini straps, and a large hicky on my neck...well, I certainly
looked like I had being having sex. I also noticed something else. My time
in the hot sun had had an unexpected result. I now had a bikini tan.


Chapter Ten:
It ended quicker than it had begun. Finals were over, it was mid-
June. Leroy and I were at the gym, working out together. Leroy was
busying lifting some dumbbells. His biceps swelled under the strain. He
had certainly become pumped up recently. He was definitely much stronger
than me. When we were alone, he would occasionally pin me down on the
couch and then kiss me all over. Of course it was just a game, all I had to
was tell him I was uncomfortable and he’d let me go. It was just that I never
asked him to.
I was lifting weights too, but mine were five pounds each, as
opposed to the 40 lb. ones Leroy was using. I looked down at my pencil thin
arms. I certainly couldn’t see any results, but at least our trips to the gym
were keeping me slim. I was wearing a leotard and an athletic bra. I could
only fit into that outfit if I kept in shape. Then again, I could have done
without all the stares I was getting from the male athletes around the gym.
Leroy grunted and placed his dumbbell back on the rack. “That’s enough for today, honey. Any more and I won’t be able to move tomorrow.”
“You poor thing.” I punched him playfully in the shoulder. “How about I give you a backrub later?”
“Ooh, I feel better already.” He kissed me. “Listen Dale, I”m driving
out to see my parents this weekend. Would you come along?”
“I dunno. Sounds like a family thing. Do you really want me to be
there?”
“Of course I do. I...well, I think it’s time that you met my family.”
Met his family. My God. Introduce me to his parents. Leroy was
hugging me, he didn’t see the shamed look on my face. Leroy’s parents
lived a good eight hours away. He wouldn’t take a casual girlfriend all that
way to have dinner with his folks. It was obvious he thought much more of
me. Much, much more. Perhaps he even thought of a permanent
relationship. He had been discussing the future a lot. Even when he spoke
about life after graduation, I was in his plans.
What had I done? I had lead him on, that’s what I had done. For all
the time we had been dating I had pretended I was in love with him (at least I
thought I was pretending, sometimes I wondered). Now what? In a few
weeks I would leave this campus for good. How would that make Leroy
feel? I couldn’t just disappear! how could I have ever thought this would
work out for the best?
I had been a cold-hearted bitch. There was no other word for it. I
was acting like the kind of woman John hated: someone who seemed like she
liked a guy, and then dumped him for no reason. Hell, I was being the kind
of woman that I hated. That every guy hated! The worst part was I would
hurt Leroy, a man who had done nothing to hurt me. He stood up for me, he
took care of me, he loved me. I would repay that love by ripping out his
heart.
One thing was for sure, it had to be over now. I couldn’t just go on
pretending that we’d be seeing each other next year. I certainly couldn’t meet
his parents. I pulled away from him.
“Leroy, I think we should see other people. I want to break up.”
“What?” asked Leroy, half laughing. I knew he was hoping that I was joking.
“I want to see other people. We’re just getting too serious for my
taste.”
For half a second, Leroy looked like he had been kicked in the groin. He quickly recovered. He face became a mask, unreadable. His drama training had really paid off.
“Dale,” he said, his voice steady and clear “we don’t have to see my
parents. If you want to cool things for a while, I...understand.”
He was taking it hard. I had dated him for months and could see right
through his poker face. He was dying inside. But giving him false hope
would have been even crueler.
“I don’t want to cool things. I just want to end it. I’m sorry, it’s
been fun, but it’s over.”
Leroy opened his mouth, then shut it. He swallowed, coughed and
swallowed again. “OK Dale. I thought we had something special, obviously
I was wrong. Goodbye forever.” He walked off quickly.
“Leroy,” I called after him, “don’t take it personally, It’s not you, it’s
me.”
Leroy stopped and turned around. He had a strange half smile on his
face. He snorted, shook his head, and continued out the door.
I numbly went into the girl’s locker room, showered (in a well
secluded stall, of course), and changed into a dress. I walked out into the
warm spring air.
I had done it. I had dumped him. I had hurt him, but at least now I
had nothing holding me back. Recently I had been having alarming thoughts.
Every time I thought about how I would spend the rest of college, I would
find myself thinking of myself as a girl, and still dating Leroy. Now Leroy
was gone. Now I had no excuse. It would be rough but I’d do it. Have my
breasts removed, have injections of testosterone, I’d be a man again. The
first thing I’d do is go to a bar and pick up some sleazy woman and have
some meaningless sex. Yep, that’s what I’ll do, I thought joylessly.
I was too wired to go home. I walked around campus until dark.
Everywhere I went, something would remind me of Leroy. A coffee shop he
had taken me to. The park where we would kiss at night. The library where
we’d study together. The people I ran into were no help either. They not
only reminded me of the friends I would be leaving behind, they reminded
me of Leroy as well.
“Hey Dale, tell Leroy I have that book he wanted to borrow.”
“Dale, glad I found you. I’m having a party this Friday, I hope you
and Leroy can make it.”
“Hey, I saw you in that play a while back. Y’all were great. You and
that Demetrius guy work well together.”
And so forth. What would all my friends think when Leroy told them
how I had dumped him? Classes would be over soon, I doubted I’d even see
any of them again. But what about after I had gone? I had always kind of
imagined that my friends would miss me after I left them. Now, after I had
been so cruel to Leroy, they’d never speak kindly of me again. It hurt to
know that I wouldn’t be fondly remembered.
The more I thought about it, the more nervous I became. Had I done
the right thing? Could I go back to being a man? Should I? All I had to do
was rush to Leroy’s house and tell him I had been stupid. That I was scared,
but I was over it. He’d forgive me, he’d take me back.
What was I even thinking about that for? I didn’t want to be his
girlfriend, I was a man, for God’s sake! Besides, even if I wanted to get
back with him, I couldn’t. I was a man, and was certainly not the person
Leroy thought he loved.
Soon it was dark. I still couldn’t go home. I couldn’t face that empty
apartment, the couch where Leroy had first kissed me, the kitchen where I
had cooked for him, the TV where we had watched horror movies and I had
pretended to be scared. I needed to talk to someone. I thought about calling
Rhea, the magician’s wife, but it was a little late at night for that. I decided to
go see Jenni and see if she could help me make sense of things.
I went into her dorm building and banged on her door. No answer.
Damn, where was she? I knocked again. From down the hall came a young
woman who looked like the stereotypical valley girl, and a guy who looked
like he belonged on a California beach somewhere, surfboard in hand.
“You’re, like, looking for, like, Jenni, right?” asked the girl. I swear
to God she said that.
“Uh, yes I am. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is?”
“Like, no. Sorry, but, she like left with her boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? “No,” I said, “you’re thinking of someone else. I’m looking for Jenni Simpson, dark hair, bad scar on her face.”
“Dude,” said the guy. “Yeah, I know the chick. Kinda cute but with
that gnarly gash on her face. Dude, seriously, she left with some big dude.”
Just talking to this couple was giving me a headache. “Thank you very much,” I said.
“Like, no problem.”
“Dude, take care.”
Jenni, the one person I could have talked to, was gone. I decided just
to go home, drink a warm glass of milk, hop into bed, and pretend that this
was all a bad dream. That I wasn’t really living like a woman. That I didn’t
really have breasts. That I hadn’t broken the heart of a dear, sweet man.
I unlocked my door and stepped inside. I could hear John in the kitchen, singing.
“Oh what a night! Sweet surrender back in ‘63, she was everything I
dreamed she’d be, I remember, what a night!”
Oh Jesus, not that song. John only sang that song when he had
‘gotten laid,’ as he put it. A couple of empty wine glasses on the coffee table
and a strange pair of panties on the couch confirmed my suspicion. I
shuddered to think of what sort of green-haired, body pierced, heavy-metal
groupie had staggered home with him. I certainly was in no mood to meet
her. I just wanted to get something to drink and hide under the covers.
John was standing by the stove, cooking some eggs. He was
wearing nothing but some boxers. “Oh I...I got a funny feeling when she
waaaaalked in the room....” he crooned.
“Hey John.”
John turned with a start. “Dale! What are you doing home? I thought you were going out with Leroy tonight!”
Et tu, John? “Change of plans,” I told him. “Don’t let me bother
you, I’m going to bed in a second.”
John kept nervously looking glancing at his bedroom door. “Uh
yeah, well, good night,” he said pointedly. What the hell was his problem?
Did he have a married woman back there or something?
“Fine John. I just want to get some milk.”
“I’ll bring it to you!” John shouted. He sure seemed desperate for me
not to meet his date, if you could call her that.
“Hey John,” called out a voice from his bedroom. “Those eggs done
yet?” His door opened. Out stepped a woman wearing one of John’s shirts.
She didn’t seem to have anything on underneath. He hair was tussled and
she was smiling in an exhausted way. She stopped short when she saw me.
It was Jenni.
I was dumbstruck. I just stood there gaping. Jenni and John grinned
sheepishly. Jenni took John’s hand in hers. “I didn’t expect you home so
early,” she said.
A few seconds later I was alone with Jenni in my bedroom. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Well....” Jenni smiled sweetly. “You kept telling me I’d meet a special guy. Well, you were right! Dale, I have a boyfriend!”
“Since when?”
“Since spring break. You were out of town, I was here with John, and well...things just happened!”
“For Christ’s sake Jenni, what the hell are you thinking? You can do
better than that! I know you want to be loved, but don’t settle for John!”
Jenni jumped up and glared at me angrily. “Let’s get something
straight, Dale,” she shouted, pointing at me. “I am not ‘settling.’ You might
not believe it, but I do have standards when it comes to men. You might also
find this hard to believe, but John is more than a drunken punk. He may act
stupid, but he’s a hell of a lot deeper than everyone gives him credit for.
Especially you.”
John, deep? I found that very hard to believe.
“Look at this,” Jenni continued. “It’s a poem John wrote for me.”
I took it and read:
‘Jenni, my darling, my rose,
All I ever think about is you.
I just want to look into your eyes,
to spend an eternity hearing your laugh,
to lay down my life to bring you joy...’
John had wrote this?
‘...and you got, like, a really nice butt.’
Yes, John had wrote that. I began to think about it all. True, John
was a slovenly lunatic who left toenail clippings on the floor. But was that all
he was? He certainly was someone who stood up for his friends. He
heroism in the bar fight proved that. I really couldn’t see John ever cheating
on Jenni, he seemed too zealous about being true to your dates to run around.
And I knew he’d never hit her.
Could it be that John, the man who had once gotten his head stuck in
pasta pot, was also the man who could see past Jenni’s scars to the real
woman inside?
“Jenni, I’m sorry about what I implied. Does he really make you happy?”
“Yes, he does. This might be it, Dale. He might be the one.”
“Jenni, I can’t say I see what you see in him, but if he makes you
happy, if he treats you right, then I’m happy for you. For both of you.” We
hugged.
“Dale,” Jenni said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? For what?”
Jenni pulled away and turned her back. “For doing this to you.
Instead of trying to help you out of dressing like a woman, I forced you into
it.”
“Jenni, it’s not like I had a choice.”
Jenni still wouldn’t look at me. “True, but I gave you a lot of bad
advice. I changed your room, I bought you women’s clothes, I told you to
use the self hypnosis takes and to take estrogen. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I laid my hands on her shoulders. “It’s OK Jenni, you were just looking out for me.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
I retracted my hands. “What are you saying Jenni?”
Jenni didn’t speak for a while. “What I’m saying, is that, well, you
looked, well, you still look so much like me. I guess sometimes I would
fantasize that I was you. That I was the pretty girl that all the boys liked.
Even with Leroy, I probably should have told you not to go near him, it was
too risky. But I just stood back and watched, like it was me going on all
those dates. It took John to show me I didn’t have to experience love and
romance vicariously.”
“Jenni, that wasn’t very nice or responsible. But don’t blame
yourself. If there’s one thing all this has taught me, is that you’re always
responsible for your own actions. Everything I did, I did because I chose to.
Now I have to live with the consciences. That’s why I broke up with him
tonight.”
“You...you broke up with him?” Jenni didn’t seemed to know how she was supposed to react.
“I did a stupid thing. I played with his heart and now I’ve hurt him.”
I started crying. Jenni held me.
“You poor thing. I’m sorry. I knew you cared about him. I guess
you broke things off because you couldn’t love another man?”
I shook my head. “I broke things off because I have to go back to
being a man. If I didn’t have to, well...aw, what’s the point? I have to be a
man again, there’s no getting out of it.”
“Dale, are you sure about that?”
Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door. John, now fully clothed, stuck his head in. “Uh, everything OK?”
“Everything’s fine, John,” I replied.
“I mean, uh, are we OK?” said John, pointing to himself and me.
“We’re fine John. Just treat Jenni right, that’s all I ask.”
John grinned. “D’ya mind if I come on in?”
Jenni looked at me questioningly. I nodded.
John sat down on the bed and laid his hand on the back of Jenni’s neck. He then noticed my puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“Dale, hey, what’s wrong?”
I laughed, a quick, humorless laugh. “Oh nothing. It’s just that it’s
almost time for me to stop living this life, and for some reason I’m not sure I
want to.”
John pondered this, then spoke. “Hey, I just read that when guys get
out of prison after like twenty years, a lot of them go out and rob a bank or
something and get sent right back!”
What the hell did Jenni see in this guy? “Thank you, Beavis,” I said,
meanly. “If you’re not going to be serious, then I’d like to be alone.”
“No, don’t you get it?” said John, as if he had been giving sage
advice. “It’s not that they were evil or had criminal minds. It was just that
after so long in jail, they couldn’t adjust to life on the outside. They’d
commit some violent crime just to get sent back to the only life they knew
anymore.”
“John, is there a point to any of this?”
“Well,” he said, “I’ve never done either, but I figure that being a
woman is a lot easier than being in prison.”
Shockingly, John’s ramblings actually made sense. I had build up a
college transcript, a network of friends, a feminine demeanor, and a love life
as a woman. It wouldn’t be so easy leaving it all. It would almost be simpler
to forget that I had ever been a man.
“So what now?” I asked Jenni and John.
“It depends on you, Dale” said Jenni. “Like you said, you make all
your own decisions. Do you want to go back to being a boy?”
“Yes! Well, sure. Maybe...I don’t know.”
“It’s Leroy, isn’t it?” asked John.
“Yes, it’s Leroy. This is insane. I’m a guy! He’s a guy! Why can’t
I stop thinking about him?”
Jenni took my hand. “Because he’s a caring, wonderful man that you
have feelings for. You don’t want to hurt him and you’re afraid to go back to
a life that he’d never be part of.”
I sighed. “That about sums it up. But why are we even discussing
this? Leroy thinks I’m a girl. If he found out the truth, he’d freak.”
“You sure about that?” asked John.
“Oh, right. I’ll just tell him ‘Hi Leroy, I’m actually a man. Oh, and
I’m not sure if I want to continue being a woman, so could we keep dating
while I decide?”
John seemed to mull this over seriously. “You probably should put it
more delicately...”
“John, would you be serious?”
John looked confused, he thought he was being serious. “Well, I
think you ought to tell him. If he gets mad, well, you’re leaving campus
anyway. But he might possibly be more understanding than you think.”
“Get real.”
“Dale,” said John, “I never asked out your sister because I thought
she’d never say yes. But I finally took that risk and it paid off. I don’t know
how you feel about Leroy, but don’t give up on him just because you think
he won’t understand.”
My headache was savage. “Thank you John. Thanks, both of you.
I appreciate your advice. I just need time to think. Maybe things will be
clearer tomorrow.”
They both said good night. I laid on my back, thinking about Leroy
and listening to the rhythmic squeak of John’s bedsprings next door.

[sarat]

Chapter Eleven:
I spent the next few days locked in my room. I couldn’t seem to get
up the energy to get out of bed. I just couldn’t face the world. Jenni seemed
terribly worried. She would constantly come over and beg me to come out. I
kept telling her that I was fine, that I just needed time to myself. That was a
lie of course, but I didn’t want to keep her from enjoying her time with her
new boyfriend.
Finally, I made a decision. I had to go to Leroy and talk to him. I
had to explain everything. Odds are he’d hate me forever, but I couldn’t go
through life wondering ‘what if?’ If he somehow understood, we could work out what to do about the future together.
I showered, shaved my legs, and did up my face. I put on my
tightest pair of jeans and a shirt that was almost absurdly low cut. If I was
going to tell Leroy that I was a man, I wanted him to remember that I wasn’t
that much of one.
Jenni and John were just leaving the apartment when I came out of
my room. They had a picnic basket and blanket in hand. They invited me
along, but I declined. It was obviously going to be a romantic picnic for two,
and besides, I had to talk to Leroy. I couldn’t put it off anymore.
As soon as they left, I began to hesitate. Just like with any unpleasant
task, I kept looking for excuses to procrastinate. I touched up my makeup,
rebrushed my hair, and paced throughout the apartment. I even called his
house and hung up when his room mate answered.
I was stuck. How do you tell a man that you’re not the person he
thought you were? How do you tell him you’re not even the sex he thought
you were?
I was beginning to think that I’d never get up the nerve to face him
when I noticed an old shoe box on the coffee table. I opened it. It was filled
with scores of old photos John had taken for his journalism classes. In order
to put off the inevitable, I began glancing through them. John certainly had
chosen some interesting subjects for his pictures. I didn’t even know there
was a slaughterhouse in the area.
I was about to finish with the pictures when a snapshot near the
bottom caught my eye. I picked it up and examined it. It was exactly what I
needed to help me break the news to Leroy. I put it in my purse and took off
for his house.
Leroy rented a two-bedroom house a ways from campus. I stood on
the sidewalk, trying to build up the courage to ring the bell. Would he even
talk to me? I thought that he would. Finally I walked up to the door and
knocked.
Leroy’s roommate, Frank, answered the door. Frank was a black
guy who was known on campus for two things: his huge dred locks which
hung down almost to his hips, and his ever-present, friendly smile. When
Frank saw that it was me, his smile instantly turned to a glare.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said contemptuously.
“Frank, is Leroy in?”
“No, Leroy is not in. I don’t know where he is,” Frank answered coldly.
“Please, I really have to talk to him.”
“Why? Did you forget to tell him he wasn’t man enough for you? Or
did you just want to savor his misery?”
Jesus, Frank was pissed off. It wasn’t hard to guess why. I had just
dumped his friend for no good reason. He obviously didn’t think very highly of me.
“Please Frank. I have to talk to him. I...might have made a mistake.
I know you know where he is. For his sake, tell me.”
Frank snorted and cracked his knuckles. “Well,” he eventually said.
“You did not hear this from me, but I happen to know that Leroy’s uncle has
a fishing cabin off route 55 in Shannon County. If my heart had been ripped
out and stomped upon by the girl I loved, I might just go to a place like that to
try and recover.”
“Thank you, Frank. I really appreciate this.” I turned to leave.
“Oh Dale?”
“Yeah?”
“If you are going to see Leroy to get back together, then that’s fine.
And if you just want to try to talk to him, to explain why you dumped him, I
guess you deserve a chance. But if you see him and act like you like him and
then break his heart a second time...well, I can guarantee you’ll never have a
friend on this campus again. Leroy’s a good guy, people won’t stand for
you jerking around with his emotions.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I left. Jenni’s car was at my place.
I took the keys from her hiding place and sped off towards where Frank had
said Leroy was. As I drove, I thought about what Frank had said. He had
said that if I hurt Leroy I wouldn’t have a friend on campus ever again. It
sounded like he was just making idle threats to protect his friend. Then
again, I didn’t have many friends here who weren’t also friends with Leroy.
I doubt any of them would want to stay friends with me after I hurt Leroy.
I’d have to start over with a new circle of friends, so maybe Frank wasn’t
just shooting his mouth off. Then again, if things didn’t work out with
Leroy then there’d be nothing keeping me at this school anyway.
It took me forever to find the secluded cabin, but I eventually located
it, far back on a country road. It was pretty run down; it looked like that
shack the Unibomber lived in. Nearby there was a lake, I guessed that was
where Leroy’s uncle did his fishing. I knocked on the corrugated iron door.
There was no answer. I swung it open.
Inside it was dark. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. It
was filthy. There was little furniture other than an unmade bed and a table
with fish guts and tackle scattered all over it. There was an odd contraption
in the corner. When I examined it, I realized that it was an honest-to-God
still for making moonshine. Apparently Leroy’s uncle did a little more than
fish up here.
A shadow fell across the door. I turned to see Leroy walk in. He
was carrying a fishing rod and several fish on a line. He looked terrible.
Unshaven, filthy, and still wearing the ragged sweats he had had on the last
time I saw him. He must have come out here soon after I had dumped him.
He probably hadn’t bathed in days and was living on whatever fish he
caught. I hated to see him in this state; who would take care of him? When
he saw me he froze.
“Dale!” he gasped. His shocked expression became guarded. “What
are you doing here?”
“Leroy, we need to talk.”
“So talk.” He wasn’t risking anything. It was clear he was afraid of
being burned again.
“Leroy, this may take a while. Can we sit down?” Leroy motioned
me to the bed. He sat opposite me on an orange crate. He lifted a stone jug
off the table and took a pull. He grimaced and offered me a swig of white
lightening. I shook my head.
“Dale,” said Leroy, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And a lot of
drinking. Drinking and thinking. Look, if you want it to be over, I guess I
have to deal with it. But tell me the truth. You said you wanted to break up
because you wanted to see other people, but I don’t believe that. That’s not
you, Dale. You’ve never talked about other men, never mentioned a previous
boyfriend, never swooned over anyone famous...I think I deserve to know what I did wrong. What I did that made you want out.”
I took Leroy’s hand. He didn’t return the grasp, but he didn’t retract
his hand, either. “Leroy, it wasn’t you. I...I don’t think I really wanted to
break up. But...I have a past. A secret. Something you’d never understand.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Dale!” he bellowed. “Nothing, NOTHING, in
your past could make a difference to me! I don’t care about whatever it was
you did! All I care about it you! The past isn’t important!”
“This is. You’d hate me, I know you would.”
Leroy let out a frustrated yell. “Dale, I love you. I love you! I...I
was even thinking that maybe someday...that you’d be my wife. This isn’t a
crush, Dale. If you don’t feel the same way, well, I guess I’ll have to
survive, somehow. But don’t give me any bullshit about some ‘deep dark secret.’ I think after all this, I deserve better.”
“Leroy, I’m a man!”
Leroy stared at me with contempt. “First you dump me, then you tell
me ridiculous stories. Just get out. Get the hell out.”
“Leroy, calm down and listen. Don’t say anything, just listen.”
I told him. Starting with the day Jenni first talked to Steve, I told him
everything. About my date with Steve, about meeting Leroy for the first
time, about my confusing feelings about him, about the estrogen, the
implants, about Jenni and John, everything. I finished by handing him the
photo I had taken from the shoe box. It was the photo John had taken of me
the week before I dressed as a woman the first time. It was of me, the male
me.
Leroy didn’t move throughout my narrative, except to take more swigs from his jug. He stared at the photo for a long time.
“They eyes,” he finally said.
“What?”
“The eyes. Everything else has changed, but your eyes are the same.
Windows to the soul.”
He sat there quietly for a while, looking at the photo. Finally I spoke.
“Leroy...”
“What is it, you bitch? Or I guess I should say bastard!” Leroy laughed, a cruel hateful laugh.
Tears formed in my eyes. “Leroy, I never meant to hurt you...”
Leroy had an almost deranged expression on his face. “I never
thought you could do anything to make me hate you, but damned if you
didn’t prove me wrong. Just make a guy love you, but fail to mention that
you’re a FUCKING GUY!”
I began to cry. “Save it for the next sucker,” he sneered. “To think I
ever kissed you.” He then make retching noises.
“Leroy...” I looked up at him, hoping that I’d see some sort of quavering, some sort of friendly emotion that I could latch on to.
“I said get the hell out!” He slammed his hand down on the table,
then inexplicably doubled over in pain. I realized he had slammed his hand
on top of the pile of tackle and now had several fishhooks imbedded in his
palm. Without thinking, I ran to him to help him.
He snarled at me, an animalistic growl. “Go away,” he said. He
voice had no strength, I think he was sobbing. “Just leave me. If you ever
cared about me, then don’t ever come near me again. I couldn’t take it.”
I walked slowly to the car, hoping that he would call me back to him.
He didn’t.
“I want you to take these breasts off! Amputate them! I hate them!”
I was sitting in Dr. Alice’s office. Since it was obvious that Leroy
would never love me again, I couldn’t stand the thought of being breasted. I
was going to go back to being a man ASAP, and this chest was going to be
the first thing to go.
“Calm down, Dale. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong? Everything’s wrong! I think I’m in love with a guy
who hates me, I’m a man with tits, and I have to change schools and leave
everything behind! My life SUCKS! I want these breasts gone. I read the
legal papers of the implant experiment. Any time I want out, the doctor has
to remove them. He’s legally required.”
“Dale, there’s only a few weeks left in the testing process...”
“God damn it, I don’t give a shit about your ‘testing process!’
You’re not the one who has to live with these things!”
“Dale, calm down and listen to me. Everyday, hundreds of people
walk into plastic surgeons’ offices and demand breast jobs, or nose jobs, of
liposuction, or whatever they think they need to be happy. 80% of those
people never go through with it. People have a problem and they think
surgery will solve it. That’s not always the answer and it is never something
you should do when you are upset or emotional.”
“Well, doctor,” I said with anger in my voice “I don’t recall you
giving me this speech when you convinced me to have these put in in the first
place. Or don’t you remember?”
Dr. Auger looked a little guilty, maybe she was having regrets about
suggesting implants to me. “Look Dale, I’m not saying you can’t have them
removed, I just want you to calm down and thing about what you’re asking.
I can’t schedule the surgery now, it would be tantamount to mutilation.
Come back in a week and we’ll see what you think.”
“What I think, doctor, is that you had better schedule me some
surgery right now. It’s the law. You can’t force me to stay in your friend’s
experiment against my will.”
“True, but I can say you’re running a fever and surgery would be unadvisable at this time.”
I was shocked. “You mean you’d actually lie and force me to keep these things? You’re nuts! I’ll sue you! I’ll have your licence!”
“Dale, I’m doing this for your own good.”
“That’s what everyone says. Well, people doing things for my own good has ruined my life. Thanks for nothing, see you in court.”
Alice looked at me with concern and pity. “Come back in a week,” she said as I left.
I drove back to my apartment, plotting revenge on Dr. Auger. It had
never occurred to me that she would actually deny me my right to have the
implants removed. I began mentally writing the letter I would send to her
bosses to get her fired.
First things first, though. When I got home, I went into my room
and locked the door. Then I took off all of my clothes. I looked at my
reflection in the mirror. Except for my small, withered penis, I looked like a
woman. Long hair, breasts, smooth skin. I’d fix that! First I took out an
Ace bandage and wound it around my chest as tightly as possible. It didn’t
hide my breasts as much as I had hoped that it would. Well, as they say,
clothes make the man. I had got Jenni to bring me back a couple of my old
male outfits. First I put on a dress shirt. Then I pulled on a pair of men’s
slacks. I completed the outfit with black socks, dress shoes and a tie. There! Now I looked like...now I looked like...like a woman wearing men’s clothes.
The shirt would hardly button in the front. Even with the bandages, I
was still very clearly breasted. My chest caused my tie to stick out about 15
degrees from my body. The pants, though tight in the rear, wouldn’t stay up;
I had lost weight this year and didn’t have a man’s belt with me. The only
articles of clothes that really fit were my shoes. My nails were still painted,
my hair was long, my features delicate. I was stupid to think that just
throwing on some clothes could undo a year of this lifestyle. What could I
do? I began to think. Well, if Dr. Auger let my have my implants removed
next week, if she helped me start on male hormones, if I could just go away
somewhere alone for a while, maybe eventually I could pass as a man. Of
course, that was a lot of ‘ifs.’ One thing was for sure, there was no point in
me wearing men’s clothes now. I looked utterly ridiculous.
“You look utterly ridiculous.” I turned around to see the owner of the
voice. It was Leroy. He had come up to my bedroom door without me
hearing him. He was now showered, shaved, and sober. He reminded me
of how he had looked that day, many months ago, when he had come here to
take me to the movies for the first time. His hand was bandaged from where
he had tangled with the fishing lures.
My first instinct was to run into his arms, but I restrained myself. I
didn’t know why he was here and I couldn’t stand it if I tried to hug him and
he refused. “Leroy...” I called out, my voice barely a whisper.
“Hey, Dale,” he said evenly. “I was in the neighborhood. Care to go
for a drive with me?”
“Yes!” I said, ecstatically. I knew I should play it cool, but I didn’t
care. Against all odds, here was Leroy again.
“OK,” he said. “But put something decent on, for goodness sake.”
Leroy left the room so I could change. I removed my male clothes,
and without a moment’s hesitation, tossed them in the garbage. I knew what
I had to do. If Leroy was still even remotely considering a future with me, I
had to move fast. I pulled on some fishnet hose, some spiky high heels, a
mini skirt, and a halter top. I spritzed myself with perfume and put on some
more makeup. I looked in the mirror and giggled. I looked like I should be
at the docks, propositioning sailors. But I looked sexy. That was all I
wanted. Leroy would know that I had dressed like this for him and for him
alone.
Leroy silently beckoned me to his car. I got in and he took off without saying a word. When I asked him where we were going, all he would say was ‘for a drive.’
I was disappointed, and a little scared. Leroy hadn’t even seemed to
notice my clothes. Where were we going, what was on his mind? He
seemed deaf to all my questions and attempts at conversation. I guess he
didn’t want to get back together. Maybe he just wanted to talk. He probably
just wanted to clarify some things, maybe say that he still wanted to be
friends. Then again, maybe I wasn’t even that lucky. Maybe he just wanted
my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone he had dated a man. And here I was dressed like a slut. That certainly wouldn’t raise his opinion of me.
After a long, agonizing drive, we arrived at our destination. Leroy
had taken a different route, so I didn’t recognize the fishing cabin until we
were right in front of it. What were we doing out here? I guessed it was
pretty obvious. Leroy was now ashamed to be seen with me. He wanted to
take me somewhere that no one would see us talking. He couldn’t even bear
to be with me in public.
Leroy wordlessly walked into the cabin. I followed. It was still dark
inside, Leroy lit a candle. When my eyes adjusted, I couldn’t believe what I
saw. The filthy cabin was now swept and clean. The fish guts and fishing
gear were gone. The table was now covered with a table cloth. The jug of
home made whiskey had been replaced by a bottle of champagne and two
glasses. The bed had been covered by clean sheets which I recognized from
off Leroy’s bed. A single red rose stood in a glass on the window sill.
It could only mean one thing. I turned to Leroy. Before I could say
anything, he kissed me. All I wanted to do was swoon in his arms, but he
gently pushed me away and held me at arms length.
“Dale,” he said, “I still love you. All last night I tried to hate you, for
dumping me, for lying to me. But I couldn’t. Just like you can’t decide to
fall in love, you can’t decide to fall out of love either. As much as I wanted
to do otherwise, all I could think about was driving to your house to get you.
So that’s what I did. I figured after all this, we were both entitled to a
romantic evening together.”
He kissed me again. He held me, seemingly unconscious of my joyful tears. Then he said something that nearly destroyed my rapture.
“Besides, I know you’re not really a man, Dale.”
I pulled away. My God, he was denying it! He was trying to pretend
like nothing had happened. “Leroy,” I began uncertainly, “I wish it weren’t
true, but I really am a man.”
“Oh really?” asked Leroy, pulling me back to him and kissing me.
“Then why are you dressed like that? Men don’t were stockings, or makeup,
or halter tops.”
I was a little nonplused. “Sure, but...”
Leroy began kissing my face around my mouth. “If you’re a man, where’s your beard?”
“I...I don’t have a beard.”
Leroy’s kisses moved down to my neck. “And if you’re a man, why is your skin so silky and soft?”
My neck was my number-one erogenous zone. His kisses there left me paralyzed, all I could do was moan.
Leroy’s kisses became more intense. I was turned on. Leroy then
slowly removed my top, revealing my bare breasts. He began rolling one of
my nipples between his fingers. My nails dug into his back, I wanted to pull
him on top of me. “If you’re a man, then what are these?”
“They...they’re my breasts.”
“Men don’t have breasts,” he replied. He then did something to them
with his mouth that made it impossible for me to answer him. Thank God Dr. Auger hadn’t let me have them removed!
Leroy turned me around, facing the bed. He then roughly grabbed
me from behind, kissing my bare neck and shoulders, holding my chest. He
had removed his shirt, his chest pressed against my naked back. In the back
of mind I knew that he would find out that I really was a man soon enough. I
didn’t linger on it long. At least afterwards I would have this memory.
Leroy pulled off my skirt and panties. All I was wearing were my
shoes, stockings, and the sex hiding garment. Leroy grabbed the garment by
its sides and pulled the rear of it around the bottom of my tush. My penis
was still covered.
“Dale, I don’t care what sex you were born as. All I know is that you
make a lousy man and a great woman. I love you. I love you as a man loves
a woman. All I need to know now is the answer to this question. Nothing
else is important. Do you love me?”
I could feel his erect penis already tickling the cleft of my buttocks.
“Yes, Leroy. Yes...yes! Oh, Leroy, yes! My God, yes! Oh, yes, oh, yes,
OH YES!”


Epilogue: Three Years Later
I sat in the living room of Jenni’s new apartment, freezing in my
bathrobe. “Would you hurry up, Jenni?” I called. “The ceremony starts in a
few hours and you still have to do my makeup and my hair!”
“Hold your horses, Dale. I’m coming. Sheesh, don’t be so impatient!” Jenni entered the room, carrying her large makeup kit.
“Sorry!,” I replied, pretending to be angry. “It’s not like I get
married every day!”
Jenni just shook her head and smiled. “Well, I for one was beginning
to think you and Leroy would never tie the knot. If you ask me, it’s about
time.”
I blushed. “We wanted to wait until after graduation. Besides, you
know I couldn’t get married legally until, well, you know. After the operation.”
“I know. So...will you let me see the results of the surgery?”
“Jenni!” I was shocked that she’d even suggest such a thing.
“C’mon Dale. It’s not like you’re my brother anymore. Please? Just
a peek? I’m curious.”
I sighed, and stood up. I took a deep breath and opened my bathrobe. Despite having lived as a woman for three years I still felt awkward about been nude around my older sister.
Jenni looked at my body critically. My firm breasts, my flat stomach,
my rounded hips. But what she was most interested in was what was
between my legs. I no longer needed to wear the sex hiding device. All that
was down there was a small patch of brown hair and a moist, tender, secret
crevice. The word ‘FEMALE’ on my college records was no longer a mistake.
Jenni shook her head in amazement. “Wow! The wonders of surgery. So have you two, shall we say, taken it for a spin?”
I pulled my robe closed tight. “No,” I replied, embarrassed. “It took
forever to heal, and by that time we were so close to the wedding...I figured
that Leroy could wait until the honeymoon. Besides, this way I can still wear
white!”
Jenni did my makeup. As she painted my face, I remembered back
several years ago when she had done the same thing for the first time. It was
shortly before my date with Steve. God, how times had changed.
Jenni helped me into my dress. The first time she had done that, it
had been a black, conservative number. Now, it was a snow-white wedding
gown. It had a plunging neckline and left my shoulders uncovered. I wore
an antique silver chain around my neck. Something old. At the end of it,
occasionally getting lost in my cleavage, was a locket that Jenni had bought
me as a wedding gift. Inside was a picture that John had taken of Leroy and
I, the day after he had proposed. Something new. A pair of Jenni’s earrings
hung from my ears. Something borrowed.
As for the something blue, Jenni was now putting it in my hair. I
hadn’t had long hair for a year and a half, I thought I looked much better with
my hair short. Why not? Long hair no longer mattered. I now looked too
femine for short hair to make a difference. It had been Jenni’s idea for me to
wear flowers in my hair. She clipped them in, finishing with a blue violet.
The ring on my finger completed my trousseau.
After we were both convinced that I looked perfect, Jenni got
dressed. She looked lovely in her maid of honor gown. No one had thought
of her as ‘that poor scarred girl’ in years. Finally we were about ready to go.
“You look great, little sister,” said Jenni. I smiled. Little sister. I
guess I had to get used to that. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I
looked so innocent, so pretty. Like a bride should.
“You look pretty good yourself Jenni.”
Jenni sighed. “Always a bridesmaid...”
I hugged her. “Don’t worry, your time will come.”
“Yes, it has,” she replied absently.
“What did you say?”
Jenni looked startled. “I said...I said ‘Yes, it will.’”
“No you didn’t. You said ‘Yes, it has.’ What did you mean?”
Jenni looked nervous. “Well....”
“C’mon, out with it.”
“But I’m not supposed to say anything! John said that this time was
special for you and Leroy and we shouldn’t steal your thunder.”
“Jenni, what are you saying?”
“Well...John proposed to me last week. He said we’d announce it
next week, but I guess I can’t keep anything from you. You’ll be my maid of
honor, of course?”
“Oh, Jenni...” was all I could say. I hugged her, already tearing up.
“Now hush, Dale. Stop that crying, you’ll smear your mascara.”
It was a storybook wedding. I know that’s the oldest wedding cliche
in the world, but it was true. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect, sunny day
for an outdoor ceremony. Leroy had suggested getting married in the woods,
in front of the cabin where I first gave myself to him. The area was decorated
in flowers. All of our friends were there. Frank, Leroy’s ex-roommate and
best man. Jenni, my maid of honor. Rhea the magician’s assistant, and Dr.
Alice, my bridesmaids. John, the wedding photographer. And of course
who else could play the wedding music, but Smeg? He had had to drive two
states away to find a tux in his size.
Smeg tore into the wedding march. Holding my bouquet, I
approached the minister and took my place by the groom. “Dearly beloved,”
began the clergyman “we are gathered her today in the sight of God to witness the joining of this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” Woman. Bride. Sister. So many new words applied to me now.
“Do you, Leroy James Brown, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” Leroy’s theater-trained voice rang out through the forest
grove, sure and confident.
“Do you, Dale Raymond Simpson, take this man...” There was
muted laughter at the mention of my middle name. After all the paperwork
and beauracratic nonsense I had to deal with to achieve legal womanhood, I
had asked Leroy if I could keep my masculine middle name. It was a
reminder, and the only reminder, of the man I once was. I had lived as that
man for eighteen years, it didn’t seem right to remove him from existence
completely. Leroy had consented. He said it would remind him of what I
had given up to be with him.
“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and
wife. You may kiss the bride.” Leroy’s kiss was tender, as tender as that
first kiss on the stage after ‘Midsummer.’ It was my first kiss as a married
woman. The first kiss from my husband.
And so ends the story about how ‘one day of my life’ turned into the rest of
my life. About how my sister realized that she could be loved for who she
was. And about how I fell in love with the man of my dreams. As
Shakespeare said, “May joy and fresh days of love accompany your hearts.”
I couldn’t think of a happier wish, nor a truer one.

[Protinus]

woowww, that is really a great story!